To Rise Above
by ButtonPusherExtraordinaire
Summary: After being undermined by everyone, Henry realized a truth; his eyes cleared and he couldn't look away. He had aimed to never be his winter-like father, but Henry VII had always gotten what he wanted. If he truly wanted to marry Anne and have his son, perhaps he must employ some of his father's teachings. It was the only way to create the Golden Age for his soon-to-be-here son. AU!
1. Prologue

**Hello, everyone, this is my first Tudors fic and I wanted to try my hand at it since I find the House of Tudor fascinating, specifically Henry VII and Henry VIII. I don't know where this story will lead, but I want to write this little plot or introduction, I suppose. Regardless, it will be a historical AU.**

 **As for this little introduction, it begins after Catherine of Aragon's speech at Blackfriars on June 21, 1529.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own** _ **The Tudors**_ **TV show or any of the characters. I guess that history technically owns them, but you know how it goes.**

XxXxXxXxXxX

 _June 1529_

The fire cast a radiant glow through the room, but it did nothing to lighten his weight of misery, of his unholy fury. The darkness of night had long since overtaken the light of day, but he hadn't the faintest idea of what hour it truly was. He had locked himself in his privy chambers with Anne and Charles as his only company, overtaken with the urge to rage and bellow at the heavens, demanding answers from God.

Why? Why did the Pope refuse to see reason, to understand that England must survive after his death, and why did Catherine continue to be obstinate as she blatantly and egregiously lied to everyone?

Henry hadn't done any of those things, though. Rather, he hadn't said a word ever since entering the room, lost in his chaotic and grief-soaked thoughts. His eyes followed the flickering flames of the fire, and he was mesmerized by their lively and unpredictable movements; the glow shimmered across his cheeks, bringing warmth to his otherwise frigid soul.

Nothing was going according to his designs, not at all. When he had tasked Wolsey with obtaining an annulment for his cursed marriage to Catherine from the Pope, he had firmly believed that his advisor and friend would acquire it with the utmost haste, that the Pope would see reason, but then the Emperor sacked Rome, imprisoning the Pope, keeping him under his power and sway. Now, because of Pope Clement VII's cowardice to do what was right, England was on the brink of doom once more. All of his father's work to reunite the country and consolidate great power to forge England into a soon-to-be Empire that rivaled France and Spain would soon be for naught if Henry didn't do something.

Now, after having listened to Catherine's lies at Blackfriars about their marriage, about her virginity, he began to realize how foolish he had been acting ever since he had approached Wolsey.

Had he placed too much trust in the Cardinal? Matter of fact, why should he delegate the most important task of his reign thus far to someone other than himself? As Anne's book rightly declared, a King answered to no one but God, yet he was being forced to answer to that rat, Campeggio and the Pope. His father had gifted him the throne of England after he had fought over two decades for it, but Henry hadn't truly realized how much work Henry VII of England had put in until late.

Maybe he must do the same; maybe he must designate the task to no other but himself.

"Your Majesty, would you like a drink?" Charles' voice was soft, hesitant and Henry was reminded of their fierce bond that had been strengthened through the decades since they had met. "I fear for your health, my friend, so please, drink something."

Henry finally raised his head and silently observed Charles and Anne's faces, uncaring if he seemed closed-off. Charles was holding the mead in his direction, a silent plea on his face, the tilt of his brows familiar. Anne stared at him almost desperately, a loud grief in her eyes that he felt in his soul, her dainty hands clutching her knees tightly, and he was reminded that in spite of her upbringing, maturity, and intelligence, she was young.

He pulled one of her whitened hands into his own, bringing it to his lips. "I am sorry, Anne. I have not- …I have failed you, failed us - and our future sons, too."

Her beautiful eyes shut at his words and her fingers tightened around his own. "Do not say such a thing, please. I cannot bear it right now."

Inhaling roughly, he grabbed the mead from Charles and took a long drink. "But it is the damned truth as much as I hate to admit it, nonetheless say it! I have been unable to do a thing except sit back and let the Pope, the Emperor, Campeggio, and Catherine dangle me around as if I am a child. I am the King of England!" He rose to his feet, towering over them both, his rage unleashed. "How dare they? How dare Catherine? She has explicitly and blatantly lied before God!"

Charles' breath stuttered, "Your Majesty, what do you mean?"

Henry whirled towards the fire, the flames soothing to his warring mind. "She was not a virgin, I know it. How could she be? Everyone seems to forget that I knew my brother. I have heard the stories. He said that he was in the midst of Spain and that it was good pastime to have a wife! I have considered that my brother was boasting, but my brother never boasted for as long as I knew him before he died. The marriage needed to be consummated because the alliance needed to be secured. They were eternally joined together as husband and wife, but I stupidly and childishly ignored the evidence after my father's death so God has cursed me because of my ignorance and intolerable disrespect to his teachings. How else do you explain the buckets of dead children that she has birthed me? Her _blighted_ womb killed my children before they were born."

"You do have a daughter, Your Majesty," his friend slowly pointed out and Henry looked at him. "Princess Mary is your only living child. The people love her - and more importantly, her mother."

"God alone knows why, for I do not," he sat back down, rubbing his face in exhaustion. "The people know nothing of them; they love an idea. They know nothing of Catherine's lies and actions. I do love my daughter, but she is a daughter, not a son. She is not fit to rule, you both know it as well as I do. A woman on my throne is against nature. Even if I put her on my throne, the people who love her would hate her; she would be killed or worse, become a puppet to the Emperor. I do not want another Empress Matilda situation, either. I need a _son!_ A son, not a daughter! A King must have a son! Without one, I am but a gelded stallion! What if I _die?"_ Henry's fists clenched; his blood pounded and the echo of horses thundering at each other assaulted him. "What if I fall off of my horse and break my _neck?_ A few years ago, when you and I charged in the lists, my folly could have killed me." He ignored Charles' flinch; he noticed Anne's sudden pale countenance. "Your lance shattered just above my eye, and a year later, when I was out with my hawk, I came to a ditch. I drove my pole to help me cross but the damn thing _broke._ I was drowning in a pit of mud. If Mody had not pulled me out, I would have _died._ If I had, who would reign? When the Sweat returns, and it inevitably will, what if I succumb? What if a fever ravishes my body and carries me away to Heaven? Suppose _that_ happens? Then _what?"_

His friend blinked, a realization suddenly appearing on his face before he boldly stared at him. "Your sister and I have- "

"I know that! I know of the gossip, of the rumors across Christendom. They say that a new dynasty will be brought to England by my nephew, but I want my own son. Is that too much to ask for, Charles, is it? For almost twenty years, I have bred, waiting for the Tudor Dynasty to grow past me and all that Catherine has given me are dead children, my children." Henry closed his eyes, feeling the clot of deep-seated grief in his heart that belonged to all of his dead children along with his mother and brothers. "Mary is frail; she is weak. I fear that a gust of wind will kill her. I have one bastard son, and while I have considered sitting him on my throne, I cannot do it. It, too, goes against nature. A bastard cannot hold England in the face of the Habsburgs! No one, especially the Kings of Christendom, would ever accept a bastard ruling England. Perhaps I will…" he trailed off, remembering what the Pope had hinted at but the thought was so foul that he couldn't finish the words.

"The Conqueror was a bastard, though." Charles pointed out, sipping from his own chalice.

"That is true, but times are different now. The first William won England through the right of conquest, and Fitzroy will not have that to help him." Henry sighed and revealed a secret. "I fear for him, even now. He reminds me so much, too much of my brother. Both of my children remind me of him. Every time I see Fitzroy, I notice how he seems to somehow be… deteriorating before my eyes. Arthur had always been in good health, I remember it, but looking back now, I can see how he had slowly declined just as I think Fitzroy will."

"And I do, too," his friend whispered while Anne looked between them, having no recollection of such things - almost no one did. "Everyone, especially your father, was shocked when he died, even though the signs were there."

"Exactly, and Arthur caught the damned, Satan-created Sweat, and somehow I see the same fate befalling my son - or something worse. He will never be my heir; it would restart the Cousins' War. I wager that Pole would use that opportunity to gain credence for his own claim, the old Plantagenet claim."

Anne swallowed, "I will give you your rightful and legitimate son and heir, I promise, but how can we have him? My childbearing years are slowly passing by as the Pope and the Emperor deny you, the King of England, and I fear that we will never be able to- " she abruptly cut herself off and devastation rippled across her lovely face.

Henry's eyes finally softened and he brought her hands into his larger ones. "I refuse to let that happen."

"But how can you do that? How can you promise that?" She asked desperately after glancing at Charles. "I love you, but we keep being forced apart by everyone."

"Because I do not want to miss it," he said softly, feeling incredibly weary, feeling the stark contrast between their years. "I refuse to miss the golden world of which we dream, in which our son will rule. I am old and although I am in excellent health and hope to live for decades more as my Uncle Arthur has done, I fear that my death could be near. I have avoided it several times recently and when it inevitably comes again, I might not be able to escape it."

Charles shared an unreadable look with Anne. "You need a son, and in the Lady Anne, you have chosen her to bear you one. Yet, in spite of your demands, Wolsey has failed you."

"Yes, but I do not know what to do with him. He has been my friend, Charles. He has been good to me."

His friend's eyes closed in sorrow, "He was kind to me when no one else was except for you, Your Majesty. The Court hated me along with the nobility, but the butcher's son, along with you, helped me thrive. There was a kinship between us."

"Aye, and for many years, I have thought of Wolsey as one of my dear friends. He's mentored me, taking my temper in stride, and even replaced my father's role as teacher after his death."

Anne's eyes locked onto his own, "But are you going to let that stop you from what you need? He has delayed and made flimsy excuses time and time again, for years now, denying us our chance to have strong sons and beautiful daughters! What if he is working with the Pope to keep you tied to Catherine?"

Henry closed his eyes, "Then he will regret it."

"What are you going to do, Your Majesty?" Charles asked, leaning forward. "I do not imagine that the Pope will rule in your favor after- "

"I know, Charles. I know better than most. Do you forget that I was destined for the Church before Arthur's death?"

"What will you do, then?"

"I will do what I must, Charles. I care not what the Pope thinks or the Emperor, or anyone for that matter. My decision is final; it is time to execute it. I will marry Anne, even if I must extort as my father before me." Henry shook his head, memories transporting him to the past. "How ironic. For as long as I remember, I swore not to be my father. I acted the opposite of him, but now as I age, I admire him - maybe love him. He personally worked for what he wanted, and I see now that I must do the same. I must go directly to the source and confront the liar. It is time that I indulge in the winter-like will and coldness that I inherited from Henry VII." He stood to his feet after kissing Anne's hands softly, "My departure will be temporary."

XxXxXxXxXxX

 _June 1529_

Henry entered Catherine's quarters, ignoring all of the kneeling forms. "Leave us," he commanded, a warning in his voice that echoed a stay in the Tower if he wasn't obeyed.

All of the ladies scurried out of the room as respectfully as possible and Catherine stood to her feet, a soft smile on her face. "My husband, I knew that you would finally understand- "

"No, it is time that you finally understand, Catherine," he barked out. "Maybe I have not been as gracious to you as I had thought, but this time, you are going to listen and you will obey me. My kindness and patience have expired. If you do not obey me, you will feel the full force of my wrath, and I think that you will find that I can employ several techniques that my father had mastered."

"Henry, I am your wife- "

"For a long time, I thought that you were, but God never thought so." He looked around the room, taking in the familiar sights that no longer felt like they belonged. "How else do you explain my dead children, Catherine? My _sons?_ The ones that your cursed womb poisoned? What other reason could there be? Your line has always been able to sire living sons. Yet, all of my sons have been taken from this world without any memories. You see, God has punished me for marrying my brother's widow. I will never have a true son of my blood and name as long as you are my wife."

"I was a virgin when we married, Henry. I have told you," she inched closer, a plea in her old eyes. "I was _untouched._ "

Henry shook his head, wondering how foolish he had been to always believe her, but no longer. "You and I both know the lies of which you speak. _Five_ months. That was the length of your marriage to Arthur; there was much time to consummate your marriage.

"No- "

"I knew my brother more than you ever did, Catherine; he was reserved like our father, but he was a _man._ He had the needs of all men; he would have been unable to resist the temptation to touch your forbidden flesh for five months."

"We fell _sick!"_

"It was not until the spring when you both fell ill. The wedding was in November... You vehemently deny what happened, but I know the truth. Every true Englishman does!"

Catherine took a step back, looking wounded. "But you asked Pope Julius II for a Papal Dispensation so that you could marry me. You _chose me!"_

"I did," he nodded his head; his words clearly surprised her. "I did choose you when I ascended the throne when I could have chosen any Princess I desired, but I was young and foolish. I had believed myself to be a chivalrous knight of Camelot rescuing you from the prison from which your father never saved you."

"The prison that your father put me in after Arthur's death!"

Henry shook his head, "That was because your father broke the marriage contract when he refused to pay the dowry to my father. Yet, I overlooked all of the facts. We married after the Pope granted the dispensation, informing me that Popes can act foolishly - and the evidence of that is growing daily. At first, I felt happy with our marriage, my chosen Queen. I loved you, even when my sweet Prince Hal was taken after 52 blessed days. Even during the first miscarriages and stillbirths, I held faith. When Mary was born sickly, I foresaw another dead child following her previous siblings, but she survived; she still lives. Her survival filled me with the hope that my desperately-needed son was to follow," he slowly locked his eyes onto her tear-welling ones. "But my son never came and you know of the rule which all Kings follow, that nature dictates: A healthy, strong son must inherit the throne of power so that the dynastic succession is a smooth one. Only through a son is peace possible. This is not Spain, Catherine. This is _England._ God has shown me the error of my ways. I now rectify my mistakes from years past so that I can finally have my true son."

A choked gasp left Catherine's thin lips. "And you think that… that _whore_ will- "

"YOU WILL NOT CALL HER THAT!" Henry bellowed, the roar of his words echoing through the room like thunder itself, making Catherine flinch back, blood rapidly draining from her features. "I am the King of England and soon, Lady Anne will be my Queen; you no longer have a say in anything. My true son will be magnificent, the one which Anne will bear me."

"No, no, _please,_ " she fell to her knees. "Henry, this is a mistake! Think of Mary, please! I am your lawful wife and your Queen. The Pope has decreed it so!"

Henry frowned, his fury finally showing on his face as he felt his features contort. "The Pope is a fucking fool, and I am thinking of Mary - and England, too. Clement is too blind in fear of your _nephew_ to see that I do what I must to save England. No matter our cursed marriage, Mary is my daughter and a Tudor. I love her, and I will gently help her see the truth that you were never my lawful wife."

Catherine glared up at him, eyes blazing and Henry felt triumph, knowing that if he could push deeper, she would break and he could then finally marry Anne.

She stood back to her feet, "You do not need a son because Mary will be a wonderful Queen- "

"Yes, but not of England, Catherine," he leaned forward. "As I already stated: This is not Spain where Isabella of Castille will rule - it is England, and you should know better than to believe or think that Mary could rule _here!_ I have heard of the lies with which you have been filling Mary's head. I should send you to the Tower for such treasonous actions against my daughter. Do you truly think that she would be accepted as a Queen? Are you as foolish as Elizabeth Barton?" Henry shook his head in disbelief, seeing the flash of his flaming red hair out of the corner of his eyes. "What has history dictated? If you wish to predict the future, Catherine, always look to the past. That was one of my father's greatest lessons. You may now think me heartless, but I have contemplated Mary being my heir and England's first true Queen, but every time when I do, I am reminded of Matilda, the nobility, Mary's fragile health, and the _Cousins' War!_ My father worked furiously for years to unite a stuck-in-war England and I refuse to see it happen again. Mary will not be put on my throne; it goes against nature and would only start another war that would tear England apart forever. My father's dynasty must continue through me and my sons that Anne will birth me. I will not be remembered through history as Henry, the fool who failed to sire a healthy son to keep England together." When he saw her shake her head rapidly in a panic, he continued. "There is also the fact that your _nephew_ would try to use England as a puppet through Mary if she became Queen, probably marrying her off to one of your cousins or great-nephews to purge out the Royal Blood of England, of Lancaster and York, of _Plantagenet!"_

" _No,_ Carlos would never- "

Henry growled, feeling feral, wanting to claw at his brother's widow's eyes. "You are _delusional!_ Yes, he would because if our roles were reversed, I would do the same - just as any King would to acquire more power, more _land!_ You know nothing of Kingship, of the truths on which it sheds light." He watched dispassionately as Catherine wavered on her feet, horror carved deeply into her sunken flesh. "You have claimed yourself to be a great and merciful Queen who loves England even more than her homeland. Now is your last and final chance to prove it. Are you a Dowager Princess who keeps her word?"

Tears spilled down Catherine's cheeks, but he was unmoved. "What… what do you mean?"

"You will enter a monastery to free me from this cursed marriage."

"I would _never!_ I am your lawful and legitimate _wife!"_

"If you do not relent, England will be on the brink of a disastrous calamity. As I already said, a dreadful war would erupt across its fertile soil and the blood of innocent men would soak it until all land was stained red if you continue your defiance, if Mary ever becomes Queen. Do you wish to feel the burden of innocent deaths?" Henry loomed over her, seeing her freeze in place, not even able to breathe. "I will rip England apart to marry Anne, Catherine. If you refuse to enter a nunnery, I will break away from the Catholic Church and denounce the Pope as a heretic. Is that your wish?"

 _"No!"_

"Your obstinance has led me to this point. I _love_ Lady Anne and will anger anyone, do anything to elevate her to her rightful position as Queen of England and my wife." Henry tilted his head upward, immovable in his words. "You may think that your nephew will save you, declare war against me, but he will not. Carlos recognizes the power of my Navy; he has nothing comparable to it. I expanded my father's plan and built England's Navy to be greater than any in Christendom, for it will be the future of warfare. The moment I see a Spaniard vessel, the Emperor's entire armada, it will be destroyed. I do not fear your nephew. Do you see? For the good of England, for our daughter whom you claim to love, you must enter a monastery. I would not regret physically forcing you there, either. The chivalrous knight of Camelot is dead; you slew him."

A wail of horror escaped her lips as she fell to her knees haphazardly. "You are your father _reborn!"_

"Yes... I am my father's son," he nodded his head in agreement and whirled around, marching towards the door. "You have one week to make your decision, Catherine. It is the last of my mercy that you will ever experience. For the good of our daughter and England, you should follow logic and reason. You have spoken of the legacy of your House, of your line. It would be unbecoming for history to remember you as the stubborn liar who caused England to be torn asunder by the fucking Emperor."

The sound of Catherine's sobs diminished in the darkness as Henry exited the room, and he felt victory; he had truly tried and seemed to have broken through to the Dowager Princess of Wales, but even if she continued to remain mulishly foolish, his hands would be clean.

The fate of England rested in her decision, and no one could blame him for what he would do if she refused to enter the nunnery.

XxXxXxXxXxX

 _June 1529_

Henry re-entered the room and Charles was struck by his friend's eyes that glowed like the flames in the fire, casting a radiance that only belonged to a King anointed by God. Years prior, he had heard of the Duke of Buckingham's plan to murder Henry to seize the throne of England for himself, citing that since he had been a direct descendant of Edward III, his blood was more worthy than Henry's.

Charles had never understood that philosophy, especially since his friend had been put on England's throne by God Himself. The Cousins' War had ended decades earlier and Henry's Royal Blood doubled Buckingham's. Henry VII was the heir to Lancaster when he had killed the duplicitous Richard III and since he married Queen Elizabeth, who was the heir to York, their children's Royal Blood, in essence, doubled because they reunited the House of Plantagenet by becoming the House of Tudor.

Buckingham was only the son of one of Edward IV's sisters-in-law, one of the Woodville's, and had an imperceptible tie to the House of Lancaster. The Duke had deserved to be executed for even thinking that he deserved the throne over Henry and Charles hadn't batted an eye when news of his death echoed; he had thought it fitting.

Now, looking at his best friend as he sat down to grab the Lady Anne's hands, he firmly believed that the eyes were God's way of determining His chosen vessel to rule parts of the Earth that He had created. Henry's eyes were beyond anyone else's, a shine that defied comprehension and Charles had stared into Buckingham's eyes with bold defiance many times - Buckingham had been nothing less than a stain under Henry.

"What did you do?" Lady Anne asked, looking up at Henry with hope. "Will everything be all right?"

His friend's frigid cold features, which reminded him of Henry VII, softened like glacial ice, thawed out by Lady Anne. "My love, I went to visit the Dowager Princess of Wales to convince her to enter a nunnery."

Charles' eyes widened in surprise. "Your Majesty, surely, she must have refused," he knew, firsthand, how righteous and stubborn Queen Catherine was. He was also surprised by Henry's bold strategy, trying to rid himself of whom he had thought to be his wife.

When he had first joined Norfolk to bring down Wolsey to secure himself back in Henry's good graces, he had learned of their ploy to move Lady Anne into Henry's favor for the sole purpose of destroying the Cardinal, how Lady Anne was to manipulate his best friend with emotions of love to see her uncle's hated adversary's demise. Charles had hated it, especially when Henry had, indeed, fallen under Anne Boleyn's spell. It had disgusted him, but he knew that if he attempted to undermine the girl in front of Henry, his King and friend would see it as an absolute betrayal, one from which Charles could never recover.

For a long time, he had known better than anyone of his best friend's need for a legitimate son and heir, but he had never known that Henry would put Queen Catherine aside, humiliating her in the process so that he could marry someone much below his station. Queen Catherine had been kind to Charles ever since he could remember and it had dismayed him to see such a fine and pious woman being slandered by the Boleyns. But Henry's words from earlier had slowly opened his eyes. Princess Mary, although a sweet and beautiful girl, could never be Queen of England alone. It wasn't her destiny; she was to be wed to a foreign Prince or even King and keep the Tudor line strong by bearing her husband sons and beautiful daughters.

Henry needed a healthy son and Queen Catherine had failed him time and time again to deliver him one. The birth of the Duke of Cornwall, little Prince Hal had filled Charles with happiness all of those years ago in 1511 but only 52 days later, the sweet Prince had passed into God's majestic kingdom. Henry had been devastated, the state of England in mourning for an entire year, and Charles had sent his condolences personally to the Queen's servants after drinking a mountain of mead with Henry to help his best friend drown his sorrows.

No other son - although Charles suspected that his friend had sired other bastards - except Henry Fitzroy, the Duke of Richmond and Somerset had been borne to his best friend, and the line of succession was in shambles; the Tudor Dynasty was being questioned by all of Christendom and Charles' eyes were finally open, and he began to see. If Princess Mary, somehow, was Henry's only legitimate child when he, God forbid, passed on, another Cousins' War would rage across England's luscious soil.

Charles' father had died in the Cousins' War, slaughtered by the nephew-killer, Richard III when he proudly stood by Henry Tudor's side as his standard-bearer at the Battle of Bosworth Field. He himself knew firsthand the horrors of war for he had been raised on the stories of it, of the absolute depravity that flooded across England for decades.

It couldn't happen again.

He had firmly, albeit quietly supported Queen Catherine through Henry's Great Matter, but if he wanted England to survive, if he wanted to be a true friend to his King, he must stop his selfish feelings - and he must convince his fiery wife to do the same for his own Mary disliked Anne Boleyn and supported Queen Catherine with a zeal that surpassed anyone else's. When Henry had been married to Queen Catherine all of those years ago, she was older than him by a number of years, her strong and fertile childbearing years already passed by it now seems, but the Lady Anne was young and fertile, and she had an intelligence and wit that, while somewhat impressed Charles, enthralled Henry. The Boleyns were dreadfully ambitious with Norfolk backing them, but if Charles was patient, he could temper Lady Anne's boldness, and secure another powerful friend who would forever keep him tied to Henry, a place where he would never leave if he could help it.

"Aye, Charles, she is mulishly foolish, but I laid out truths for her that she refused to think on." Henry's eyes blazed with contempt, a fierce snarl that was hidden beneath a mask of rigid calm. Charles had been in the presence of Henry VII many a time, and while he had always known that his best friend shared similarities with his winter-like and tax-employing father, he suddenly realized how similar the two Kings actually were. "I should sentence her to the _Tower!_ The temerity of that damn woman! For years, she has been filling Mary's head with lies about how she would be Queen. It only came to my attention through Wolsey and I would have never entitled my daughter the Princess of Wales if I had known that Catherine would use my generosity as an opportunity to turn Mary against me!"

He nodded his head slowly, wondering how much Queen Catherine had poisoned Princess Mary's mind. "There has been whispered talk through the nobility that Princess Mary would rule after…" he couldn't even finish the sentence.

"I know, but I had mistakenly assumed that Catherine and Mary knew better, and as a result, I have made an ass of myself! I was wrong and I fear that Mary has already been turned against me, that Catherine's treacherous words are clawed too deep in her mind." Henry shook his head in disgust, "What a fool I have acted, Charles, what a fucking fool. If I were not King, I would request that you gut me for my intolerable, nonsensical ways." His friend's eyes locked onto Lady Anne's and something in Henry's features changed; it was subtle and most would have not noticed it, but Charles knew his friend better than anyone - although that title was slowly being taken over by Lady Anne. "My love, I see the error of my ways, the outrageous mistakes that have polluted my mind for too long. I have been too trusting in the Pope and Wolsey. My preposterous thoughts will no longer be a hindrance to us being together fully, as we are supposed to be."

Charles knew that Lady Anne felt uncomfortable with him being in their presence, but he was undeterred; rather, he actually felt fascination. Admittedly, he didn't honestly know too much about Henry and Lady Anne's relationship other than that there was a closeness between them that Henry had never shared with Queen Catherine. If he was to be one of the Lady Anne's supporters, one of Henry's supporters in the face of the Pope, he must have knowledge.

"Do you think that Catherine will see reason?" Lady Anne had leaned closer into Henry, "If we are to be married, she cannot be here. You _cannot_ have three people in a marriage," she grabbed one of his friend's hands and brought it to her bosom. She hesitated for a moment and he himself began to feel uncomfortable, recognizing that this was an intimate moment between them; he wouldn't leave though unless Henry asked him to. "My heart is yours and I promise that you will have a son. I will bear you a son beyond any other and history will remember you and him as the father and son who created the golden age." Her eyes shut and pain flashed through her features before it vanished, replaced by determination. "I fear, though, that people work against us. There are those who wish nothing more than for the ancient and barren Catherine to stay by your side."

Henry's eyes ignited and his dark orbs echoed flames of a crackling fire, ravaging his features with vicious intent. "They will be swept away, then."

"To secure our dream of the golden age for our sons - and daughters, too - you must be merciless and uncompromising. The Pope and the Emperor would burn England to the ground to see us destroyed. I know not if France would ally with us."

"Then they will all be destroyed first," his friend had a certain look in his eye and Charles suddenly knew exactly what he was thinking, and he was right when Henry spoke again. "I have a claim to France's throne, even more so than Francois himself!"

"I hope, Your Majesty, that you do not still think of invading France during such a delicate time for your realm."

"What Englishman _doesn't?"_ Henry snapped, eyes glowing with anticipation. "We _own_ France; that throne belongs to _me_. I have a right to take it back!"

The Lady Anne frowned while Charles prepared himself for words that he had heard for years. "What do you mean, Henry?"

"Francois inherited France's throne through his wife- "

"But Francois could declare the same for your father," Lady Anne pointed out and Charles knew with absolute certainty, at that moment, that Henry was truly in love with Anne Boleyn. Nobody interrupted the King so brazenly without dangerous consequences.

"My father was the heir to the House of Lancaster and won the crown through right of conquest by slaying the Prince-killer, Richard III," his friend countered, "but part of Francois' power comes from his wife - and while he is of France's Royal Blood, his claim is much weaker than my own. My father's grandmother was Catherine of Valois, Henry V's widow, and the daughter of France's, King Charles VI. After Henry V won Agincourt, after he won immortality, Charles VI succeeded the throne of France to his daughter's descendants after she married Henry V. I am of her blood, but Francis is not."

Lady Anne's dark eyes shone with comprehension, "And that does not even take into account your claim through Edward III and parts of the Angevin Empire that King John squandered."

Henry smiled triumphantly, "Exactly. I have a double claim and if Francois does not support me in my decision to marry you and set aside Catherine, I will seize control of France itself, becoming its rightful King! No one will stand in our way in our quest to build the golden age. Our sons will be strong and mighty."

"But what if Queen Catherine refuses to enter the nunnery, Your Majesty?" Charles dared to ask, "If I may be so bold, what will you do?"

"I will break away from Rome and the Pope," his friend declared without hesitation. "While I have always followed the Papacy, it has failed me now, failed England. They weaken my God-given power and if I need to break away, I will. There will be nothing, no force on God's Earth that will stop me from marrying Anne."

The Lady Anne beamed proudly at Henry, a devoted love shining in her eyes. "The King is both Emperor and Pope absolutely in his own kingdom. The King is representative of God on Earth and his law is God's law. The ruler is accountable to God alone and the obedience of his subjects is an obedience required by God. For the Church and the Pope to rule the Princes of Europe is not only a shame above all shames, but an inversion of the divine order; one King, and one law in God's name in every realm."

Charles knew then, at that moment, that things were going to change, that they were going to be different. Looking at his friend, observing the harsh glow of the fire reflected in his eyes, he recognized that Henry was ascending to a higher plane of existence, a place where only God and Kings dwelled. England was going to change, and Charles prayed that with that change, a son and heir would be born to his friend and the Lady Anne, the soon-to-be Queen Anne.

XxXxXxXxXxX

 **Well, that's it. I'd love to hear what you think so if you leave a review, I'd really appreciate it.**

 ****Henry VIII is easily the most famous and notorious monarch in English history, maybe even world history. (Richard III's got nothing on him in all honesty.) When he first came to the throne after Henry VII's death, he was hailed as the opposite of his cold father, but it's plain to see that as he aged, he resembled his father more and more. In my opinion, Henry VII's story is fascinating and extraordinary, and I think that Henry VIII would understand that as he grew older and ran into problems with his inability to produce a male heir. Both Kings were ruthless and their tempers were legendary, Henry VIII's more so, but his father's was terrible, too. Henry VIII, in this story, is beginning to realize that he must act more like his father if he is to succeed in marrying Anne Boleyn.**

 **In case you were confused, Arthur Plantagenet was a bastard son of King Edward IV, sister of Elizabeth of York and thus, the uncle of Henry VIII. I don't think that he's even mentioned in the show unless he's the uncle who dies in the first episode, but in real history, he was a prominent figure in Henry VIII's court. Arthur lived to be 81 or 82 years of age which is incredible in his era.**

 ****Okay, Henry seriously comes down on Catherine and lays out several key truths. I do think that Catherine of Aragon wasn't a virgin when she married Henry VIII because she and Arthur, the Prince of Wales had been married for five months, which is a lot of time to consummate. Add in the fact that Arthur, on record, stated to a servant named Anthony Willoughby: "Willoughby, bring me a cup of ale, for I have been this night in the midst of Spain." Later, in front of many others, he declared: "Masters, it is good pastime to have a wife." With them being teenagers, and with Catherine's father Ferdinand and Henry VII butting heads on the marriage dowry, it was imperative that they consummate it, so I honestly think that they did. If you don't agree with me, that's completely fine and I understand. It's been a hotly-debated topic for centuries!**

 **Many of Catherine of Aragon's actions, at least to me, don't honestly make sense. She inherently knows that a son and heir is what Henry needs, what England needs, and since the Tudor Dynasty was so young, with the Wars of the Roses, which is called the Cousins' War in the story because that's how it was thought back then, fresh in the minds of England and other countries, it was imperative that Henry VIII have a legitimate son and heir. Instead of stepping down as previous Queens had down when they had had trouble bearing healthy sons, - Eleanor of Aquitaine was Queen of France for many years but never sired any sons and then after the annulment, she married Henry II of England where she did succeed in having sons - Catherine stubbornly refused and ultimately caused the Reformation to freely become the founding religion in England. (The Reformation would have happened anyway at a later time, but Catherine of Aragon's actions did not help to keep England under the Papacy one bit; her actions and decisions made it much worse, especially when Henry VIII realized that he could get his annulment to marry Anne Boleyn if he denounced the Pope and Papacy.)**

 **She should also know that England would not accept a female ruler, especially with the Wars of the Roses still fresh, like her mother was accepted as ruler in Castille. Yes, England did accept Mary I and Elizabeth I as rulers, but they were the last options, the last-ditch hail mary attempt to keep the Tudor Dynasty alive. From what I've read, Princess Mary was a sickly child and her health was fragile, and Catherine knew this. I don't understand, and maybe that's my fault, why Catherine would fill her daughter's head with lies about her becoming Queen of England. (I don't know if Catherine filled Mary's head with lies like that in real history, but it happened in the show for certain.)**

 ****Lastly, Charles Brandon undergoes a bit of a change. His character in the TV show never made sense to me, just the way he had acted against the Boleyns - which, to me, seemed like a sudden change in Season Two. I think that he supported Catherine of Aragon because his wife, Queen Mary Tudor of France did and because Catherine had been kind to him. Charles should know better than anyone how desperately Henry VIII, his best friend wants and needs a male heir. If he was a true friend, he would have supported Henry VIII in his quest to marry Anne Boleyn instead of attempting to undermine her and leading to her demise. (There's also clearly a rivalry between Anne and Charles because they each seek Henry's affections, and while Charles won in history, this is different.) I also think that his wife after Queen Mary Tudor of France contributed heavily towards his hatred for Anne, but that's my thought.**

 **In fact, as it was mentioned in the actual story, Charles Brandon's father was killed in the Wars of the Roses by Richard III. He knew how depraved war was, what one could lose, yet he was willing to risk Princess Mary becoming Queen instead of Henry siring a son with Anne Boleyn. (I'm not saying that a woman can't rule; it's been proven that women can rule, too. What I mean is that during this era in time, it was blasphemous to think of a woman ruling a country as its absolute monarch.) That makes no sense whatsoever. Sure, you can throw in politics and emotions of hatred and bitterness towards Anne Boleyn, but he should recognize how disastrous it would be if another war swept through England as contenders for the throne duked it out.**

 **I'm sure that most of you know about Henry VIII's claim to France's throne, but I'm going to fully explain it. Henry VIII, through his bloodline, has at least two claims to France's throne, one solely through his father's side, and one through both his father - Lancaster - and his mother - York. As was stated in the story, Henry VII's grandmother was Catherine of Valois, widow of Henry V, one of England's great warrior Kings. Catherine was the mother of the mad Henry VI, Edmund Tudor (Henry VII's father), and Jasper Tudor. After Henry V won the Battle of Agincourt, the French King, Charles VI agreed that all of his daughter's children, whom he thought would also be through Henry V, would become the next-in-line to France's throne after Charles VI died. In fact, when he was just a young boy after his father and grandfather died, Henry VI was hailed as the King of England and France. It goes without saying that Henry VI lost all claims because of his madness, but Catherine of Valois gave birth to the Tudors through Owen Tudor, thus leading to Henry VIII's claim through his father alone. That doesn't even take into account the ancestral lands that he could technically claim from the Angevin Empire that King John I of England lost. At that point, I believe it was something like 65% of more of France actually belonged to the English Kings through their blood inheritances.**

 **Henry VIII's other claim comes through King Edward III, and this was one of the main instigators of the Hundred Years War. You see, in 1328, Charles IV of France died without any sons or brothers to inherit the French throne, but he did have a nephew in England's Edward III through his sister, Isabelle of France, AKA the She-Wolf of France. France's Salic Laws forbid such an inheritance and the House of Valois came to power instead of Edward III and the House of Plantagenet. This is why the Kings of England for centuries claimed themselves the Kings of France, and this was the claim that Henry V used to demand the French throne after the Battle of Agincourt; it's also the second claim of Henry VIII since his bloodline, through both his mother and father, stems from Edward III.**

 **All right, I think that's everything. I hope you all enjoyed it, and please leave a review to tell me what you thought. I'd really appreciate it!**

 _ **Stay Safe  
**_ **ButtonPusher**


	2. Chapter 1

**Thanks for all of the reviews for the introduction, everyone. I wasn't sure if anyone would like it, but it seemed that I was wrong - at least in regard to those who did enjoy it.**

 **I must say that I was startled by all of the comments - and yes, I did delete them - about a former writer for** _ **The Tudors**_ **fandom, and I've narrowed done the catalyst of what had caused it, along with questions that had been sent to me, so let me clear it up: Henry will NOT conquer France or anything. Honestly, he would have an incredibly difficult time even trying to do so and it's implausible that he could during his era. (The only way that he could, was through his Navy - and that would still be slim-chanced - but that's it. France has much more men, simple as that. Sure, things do unexpectedly happen like Henry V's stunning victory at the Battle of Agincourt, but Henry VIII has many more things and people to worry about. France is at the back of his mind right now, not the front.) One of the only reasons why I brought it up was because, in real-life history, Henry VIII was more than a little war-happy in regard to France.**

 **Henry had merely been 'talking the talk' and boasting because even though he has realized many things about himself, that isn't one of them. It's in line with his character to declare that he would seize control of France because of his double claim to its throne, but he was merely threatening nobody, in particular, trying to reassure Anne that no one would stop their golden age from happening. I had only explained Henry VIII's claims to France's throne because I wasn't sure if everyone knew about them - I had thought that it would be better to play it safe than sorry.**

 **Okay, in the last chapter I referenced Charles Brandon's wife as Mary Tudor instead of the Margaret whom he married in the show, but even though I'm sure most of you know it, I'll mention it anyway: Margaret was not whom he married in real-life history. Margaret Tudor, the eldest surviving daughter of Henry VII and Elizabeth of York, married James IV of Scotland and that is how James I of England, or James VI depending on whom you ask, inherited the English throne after Elizabeth I's death - he was a direct descendant of Henry VII, kin to Elizabeth I by being first cousins twice removed. Mary Tudor was the Queen of France for a short while in real-life history, married to King Louis XII until he died a few months later - and Francis I, a cousin of Louis XII, replaced him as King because Louis XII didn't have any sons, and Francis secured his claim by marrying Louis XII's daughter, Claude of France. Mary Tudor then married Charles Brandon in secret much as it happened in the show. (Although, the punishment that Henry VIII dealt them was much different in history than how it had been depicted in the show.)**

 **I also referenced Henry Fitzroy, the Duke of Richmond and Somerset in the last chapter when, by this point in the TV show, he had been dead for a couple of years. In the TV show, when he died, he didn't look to be older than 6-years-old, but in real-life history, he died when he was 17-years-old in 1536. As you can no doubt deduce, I am basing the characters a lot more on real-life history than the show, even though I will still be using a lot from the show. Okay, I hope cleared everything up, and if you have any more questions, just ask.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own** _ **The Tudors**_ **TV show or any of the characters. I guess that history technically owns them, but you know how it goes.**

XxXxXxXxXxX

 _June 1529_

"Lady Anne?" A voice echoed and she whirled around, taken aback by the sight of the Duke of Suffolk awkwardly loitering near her. "I was wondering if we could speak for a moment, if I may ask?"

Anne blinked before nodding her head graciously, wondering if Henry had tasked his best friend with messaging her, but that didn't seem right. "Your Grace," she inclined her head respectfully, wondering what Suffolk wanted. "Yes, what is it? Is something wrong with His Majesty?"

Something shifted in Suffolk's face at her concern. "No, His Majesty is full of life. May God grant him many more years of boisterous existence. I am here… of my own accord," an uncomfortable expression crossed the Duke's features. "I wanted to be honest with you, and I wanted your permission to do so."

"Your Grace is far above me in station; my consent is not needed. You can speak freely, Your Grace. I hold no power to keep you from doing so."

Suffolk raised a brow, "Soon, though, that won't be the case, will it?" His words stilled her tongue, and he nodded at her expression, glancing around before looking back at her. "I am not a fool as your uncle claims. If Queen Catherine submits to His Majesty's wishes, you will become the Queen of England and thus, far above my station; His Majesty already elevates you above any other, including me."

"What did you wish to speak with me about, Your Grace?"

"As you have surely heard, in the past days, the Cardinal has fallen from his cradle of power and he has been disgraced, condemned by His Majesty to remain at York for the rest of his days. That makes you happy, does it not?" Suffolk drew himself up, suddenly bearing a resemblance to the way her uncle acted; it was quite disconcerting. "I know of your family's aspirations, of your part in Wolsey's fall, and most damning, your manipulation of His Majesty."

Anne felt her face go white, and she couldn't stop her eyes from widening. Staring at Suffolk's suddenly bland and unreadable features, she inhaled sharply. "Perhaps we should converse where no ears could be listening, Your Grace."

"I believe that would be wise, Lady Anne," the Duke smiled coyly and Anne felt the sparks of anxiety claw up in the rising darkness in her mind, the sudden coldness in her heart.

"This way, Your Grace," she gestured, hating that she fell into the role of a servant so easily, but she couldn't help it. The pathway was familiar, long memorized, and within silent minutes, along with several curious glances thrown in their direction, a space of privacy was found. "You were saying, Your Grace?" Anne smiled tightly, trying to stall for time, unwilling to admit her role of manipulating Henry aloud to his best friend.

"I know many things, Lady Anne, that would be of great interest to His Majesty if I revealed them. I have documents of your father and uncle's doings, how they sought to manipulate His Majesty through you, bidding you do so. The Norfolk dukedom could be revoked once again by a Tudor King." Suffolk's eyes abruptly reminded her of what her uncle had once told her: _'Suffolk, while a low-born menace, is a dangerous enemy to have, niece; he has risen high to become my equal. His friendship with the King is greater than any that I have encountered; it is so strong that Suffolk married His Majesty's sister without permission and the only true repercussions were a short banishment from Court, repaying the dowry of His Majesty's sister, and to beat the King in an arm-wrestling match. Do not underestimate him._ _Make no mistake, my useful niece, while your father and I had been able to convince the rascal that only we possessed the means of returning him to Court and His Majesty, Suffolk always had the means; the King values him above anyone, even more so than Wolsey in many ways. For as long as my memory serves, Suffolk has been the King's confidant; they have been inseparable since they were boys. I even remember the jousts when the old King Henry was alive. Suffolk was leading a show that transfixed the then-Prince; the old King was horrified, of course. That was a long time ago... When_ _we succeed in destroying the Cardinal, Suffolk will supplant more power for the King's love for him cannot be extinguished; he will become even more dangerous. Beware of Suffolk, or else all of your striving with His Majesty will be insignificant, and if you act carelessly, your death could be the same. If that happens, you will receive no help from me or your family; you will be at the King's mercy - and his ruthlessness is legendary.'_

Anne's fingers curled into fists across her bosom, thankful that the evidence of her fear was hidden. "What makes you certain that you know of what you speak, Your Grace? The documents could be falsified, given to you by one who seeks harm against my family."

"I am much wiser than you; you are but a girl in comparison. Do not endeavor to trick me; it did not go well for your uncle." Suffolk looked down at her, his height a great advantage, his eyes becoming colder and colder. "Your father and uncle arranged everything, and I have intimate knowledge of their thoughts and words, their insufferable arrogance in trying to manipulate my best friend all so that the Cardinal - a person with whom I never had problems before I was dragged into their vendetta - would fall from grace. Not even the King's love for you, the love that you fanned and _fueled,_ would save any of you if I showed him the documents that I possess. What they have done, what you yourself have done is treason, Lady Anne. Nobles in the past have been executed for far less. I have attended all of them."

Anne closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her composure. "And what do you plan to do with this information, Your Grace?"

"I will admit, Lady Anne, that until very recently, I had always planned to go directly to His Majesty with the damning evidence of your clan - and Norfolk's, too." Suffolk's eyes slowly lost their coldness, warmed by something. "I have been a quiet supporter of Queen Catherine during His Majesty's Great Matter, but I have realized my error, and it was because of you, Lady Anne - and His Majesty, as well. My mind has been changed, and you should feel relief because if it had remained closed, I would be going to the King right now to reveal the beginnings of your downfall, but I have realized my selfishness."

"What do you mean, Your Grace?"

"Queen Catherine is barren," Suffolk stated bluntly and she was shocked by his bold statement, but considering some of the things that Henry has said about his cursed wife, it was mild at best. "Princess Mary cannot rule, we both know it, just as His Majesty had declared after Blackfriar. England needs a son; another Cousins' War cannot rape its fertile soil. My father was killed on Bosworth Field by the wicked Richard III, and I wish for no more sons to grow up without their father's steady, guiding hands in their life. The King needs a son if England is to survive, and I recognize that you can give him one. His Majesty loves you more than anyone, a deep affection that I have never seen him hold for anyone else; you make him, I suppose you could say, happy. He would tear England apart to have you, and I know that; he will oppose _the Pope_ himself if he must. That is why I have changed my mind, Lady Anne, along with the fact that, through you, I can secure another friend to tie me to His Majesty."

Anne blinked in shock, "You want to be my friend?"

"If you allow me to be," the Duke didn't seem to think his request strange. "We have both silently resented one another, Lady Anne, but my resentment has faded," his voice lowered. "I saw it, the trust and love between you and Henry. My friend has, in spite of his vehement denials, been searching for a love his whole life that rivals the love that had been shared between his parents, the old King and Queen. Queen Catherine had tried to earn his love, she truly did, and while he did love her, it was never to last; her consummation with Prince Arthur and her numerous failures to bear a healthy Prince of Wales damned her to remain outside of His Majesty's heart." Anne was quiet, scarcely breathing, as Suffolk's eyes dimmed and he seemed to look at phantom memories that she had never experienced. "Henry was _devastated_ when his mother, Queen Elizabeth died, and his father had been equally as devastated, locking himself away. My friend has hardly ever spoken of her death, his grief too strong and I would not be surprised if…" his eyes suddenly latched onto her own with frightening speed. "Henry resented Catherine because she has never been able to resemble the Queen that his mother had been; the love that he felt for her when he first came to the throne and prior to his ascension has transformed into anger and distrust."

She felt her mouth dry up, and she wet her lips, feeling shameful of the bout of anxiety that gripped her again. "What does this have to do with me?"

Suffolk simply stared at her. "One way or another, you will be Queen of England and Henry will marry you; his mind is unchangeable. I love His Majesty as my brother, and I cannot, in good conscience, hold disdain for his future wife, especially during such a tumultuous time."

"I am quite stunned by your sudden change of heart, Your Grace," she said after a moment, mind working furiously. "You hold no other motive for befriending me?"

"The only thing that I want of you is to bear Henry a healthy and mighty son, and your companionship." Suffolk looked out the window to their left before connecting their eyes once more. "His Majesty has sat on his throne for _twenty years_ without a true heir to his name, and I want for you to give him one; it is my greatest wish. I do not come to you to hold the documents over you and your family's head, Lady Anne - although I could easily do that. I know of your uncle's loathing of me, I know it well. He would just as easily gut me himself if he could, and if he could do something to force me out of His Majesty's heart, just as he did to Wolsey through you, then he would do it with zeal. While I am a Duke, the equal to your uncle in power, second only to Fitzroy and then His Majesty, I am not blind to all of the old families - the Poles, Staffords, and Percys - who detest me as if I am Lucifer reborn. I am a menace in their eyes, a disgrace to be held in such high esteem. Now that Norfolk has toppled Wolsey from power, I fear that he will turn his attention to me. I want to be your friend and supporter so that your damn uncle cannot seek to do to me what he had done to Wolsey. Simply, Lady Anne, all I want is two things from you when you become Queen: your friendship, and you giving Henry a true son. That is all."

A stiff silence permeated between them for several moments and Anne stepped towards the window, staring out at the sunlight that pierced through the jaded clouds. "Do you think that Catherine will _relent?"_

"I do not know, Lady Anne."

"I did not ask if you know, Your Grace, just what your thoughts were. What do you think will happen? You have much more experience with her than I do."

Suffolk was quiet for a second. "Queen Catherine is of Spanish blood, and her actions so far have suggested that she will not yield without a fierce fight; she has always been proud. Henry used to enjoy that trait but as the years have passed, that joy has turned to anger."

"Henry gave her a week to make a decision, and it is close to being concluded. What if she…" she decided to gift Suffolk a small amount of her trust to test the waters of their new-found friendship. "What if she refuses once more?"

"His words to Queen Catherine, from what he has shared with me, seemed to have shocked her; he believed that they even resonated inside her heart. If she does decide to refuse again," his voice lowered until it was barely audible, "we both know what will happen: Henry will break away from Rome, and he will marry you, no matter what it takes."

"But that takes time, _years_ even!" Anne whirled around, feeling all of the frustration and longing in her heart bubbling to the surface of her once-calm facade. "When we do marry, what if I am too _old?_ What if the best years for having sons have passed me by? It has been years since Henry first expressed interest in marrying me, but nothing has come of it because of Catherine and her damned nephew. I fear that if too much time passes, I will fail to deliver his rightful, strong son."

"Those are just concerns, Lady Anne, but I am no seer, nor would I ever want to be. God would never welcome me home if I was one." Suffolk sighed, and she watched as his posture tightened. "You must have faith. Henry will do whatever he must to marry you, to have his son. If Queen Catherine remains obstinate, bring your concerns to His Majesty and his efforts will double in their intensity, I know that they would."

Anne smiled tightly, "Thank you, Your Grace. You have given me much to think about."

Suffolk nodded and he offered a reassuring, hesitant smile. "Queen Catherine very well could refuse, but she could also see reason, too. No matter what happens, Lady Anne, it will not be your fault."

XxXxXxXxXxX

 _June 1529_

For the past minutes, a shadow had lingered underneath the door to his privy chamber, blocking out the steady stream of light that was always there, and it caused a shade of unease to echo in his mind.

Had something happened? Was Anne okay? Then there was the matter of Catherine's deadline that would soon pass when the sun set later that day. Would his brother's wife finally see reason, or knowing her as well as he did, would she continually refuse to accept the blinding truth?

In truth, while he knew that his words had affected Catherine, he didn't hold much hope that she would relent from their doomed marriage. He was prepared for evasive maneuvering if his brother's wife didn't step down and enter a nunnery. Since Blackbriar, since he and Anne and Charles had spoken at length about Catherine, since he had realized many truths, he had begun to pore over various documents by his lonesome, trying to find as many ways as he could to free himself from the marriage that God had clearly cursed.

Looking up once more from his reading of Erasmus and Luther, showing how desperate he was, he saw that the shadow was still there, and Henry put the papers down, sighing aloud. "Mr. Cromwell."

"Yes, Your Majesty?" The door slowly opened and Cromwell stared at him hesitantly, yet ready for anything.

"What is it? You have been lingering outside my door for several minutes. What do you want, Mr. Cromwell?"

"A letter from the Queen was given to me just minutes prior, but I could not summon the courage to give it to you."

"You _read_ it?"

Cromwell straightened. "Yes, Your Majesty, but only because I feared that it could have been a hoax. Someone may have wished to trick you, Your Majesty, and I had wished to nullify such an opportunity against Your Majesty's person."

"But it was from my brother's wife, yes?" Henry stood to his feet and closed his eyes, already knowing the content of the letter. "Catherine refused. She still lies to God, does she not?"

"No, Your Majesty; she has agreed to enter a monastery."

The words floated in the air and Henry staggered, bracing himself on the table, dimly watching as he crinkled the parchments of Erasmus and Luthor. " _What?_ She… give it to _me!"_ He snatched the letter out of Cromwell's hands in a blur, eyes widening in hope and joy when he read the words:

 _My dearest Henry,_

 _I have prayed and prayed, thinking of your words to me, of my situation, specifically of Mary's, and in spite of your cruel words, in some ways, you were correct. 'Tis true: I am barren and have failed you in providing a true son for England. Mary is a sweet girl; I am so proud of her and have wished nothing but the best for our daughter, yet if what you say is true about what would happen if she becomes Queen of England by her lonesome, that life is not what I want for her. She deserves to be loved just as we love her, not hated. A Queen consort is her best life, not the one that would be presented to her as a true Queen._

 _To give my beautiful daughter her best life possible, I have swallowed the bitter and dreadful truth, Henry. I will enter a nunnery to free you to marry whom you please. I relent, but in doing so, I require-_

Henry stopped reading the letter as the words hit him in his heart, and it fell from his fingers as he fell to his knees, eyes staring up at the ceiling. "GOD! You have bestowed your greatest gift unto me! Thank you, Father of Creation! Your ceaseless mercy and love have saved England!"

He couldn't believe it - _he was free!_ Catherine had seen reason and he could now marry Anne to have his sons! His patience has now been rewarded and the golden age was upon them, all because he had elected to confront Catherine himself, to be his father's son, and Henry laughed freely, tears welling in his eyes.

"Your Majesty?" Cromwell hesitantly inquired. "Are you okay?"

"I am far beyond okay, Mr. Cromwell. I have never felt such euphoria. Why ever were you hesitant?"

"Because I believe that the Dowager Princess of Wales only relented for your daughter, Your Majesty; her decision stems not from the knowledge that your union was cursed and sinful. I would wager that she still believes herself your true wife, but out of love for your daughter, she has relented. I fear that if the Pope hears of this, especially with the Emperor controlling him, he could mandate that the Dowager Princess of Wales stay by your side."

Henry stood to his feet, ignoring the tears that had spilled down his cheeks. "If I can marry whom I please, be free from her ancient, barren womb, then I care not why she did. I no longer care for the Pope, Mr. Cromwell," his eyes noticed Cromwell's lips quirk at his words and he leaned forward. "I will not be a fool. I want you to prepare for such an occurrence. I am, indeed, euphoric that God has gifted me this opportunity, but we both know that God likes to challenge His true followers. Be meticulous in your designs. I want to be free from the marriage, regardless of what the Pope declares because of the Emperor. Now summon Lady Anne, Mr. Cromwell, and see to it that my brother's wife is taken to a nunnery of her choosing immediately."

"I will do as you command, Your Majesty, but what of the Dowager Princess of Wales' conditions?"

" _Conditions?"_

"Yes, Your Majesty. In her letter, she laid out- "

"What conditions? What are they? What does she want?"

"She wants regular correspondence with whomever she elects to write, including your daughter, Your Majesty. She has also demanded that her household move with her to the nunnery, and finally, she desires an annual income of- "

"I will abide by her stipulations, Mr. Cromwell, but I will personally read the letters between Mary and her mother. I am not blind to the fact that my daughter has been poisoned by Catherine's words and their letters could contain more of her lying words. Everything else, give it to her. Enough of Catherine, Mr. Cromwell. I never want to speak of her again."

"What would you like to speak about, Your Majesty?"

"I want to marry Lady Anne right away, Mr. Cromwell. At once, begin to- "

"Might I make a suggestion, Your Majesty?"

"Anything!" Henry laughed joyfully, a gladness in his heart that hadn't been there since, perhaps, his childhood, since his mother was alive. "You are the bringer of outstanding news, Mr. Cromwell! What is it?"

Cromwell inched his head in respect. "The news of the Dowager Princess of Wales' decision to enter a monastery would undoubtedly be a shock to England's children, especially after Blackfriar and her testimony."

"You raise an excellent point, Mr. Cromwell. What is your suggestion?"

"Wait to marry Lady Anne for only a few months, that is all. In spite of the Dowager Princess of Wales' agreement to enter a nunnery, as she should, the people of England adore her. Let their tempers cool after the initial shock and fury, and eventually, they will come to adore your union with Lady Anne, Your Majesty."

"You are clever, Mr. Cromwell," he tilted his head at his new Secretary. "Wolsey did well in shaping you; he once remarked that you were infallible."

"I owe everything to Wolsey, Your Majesty." Cromwell looked slightly uncomfortable, although he hid it well. "I have experienced much in my life; there are no more surprises to be felt."

"Why have you not appealed to me on his behalf?"

"That is because, Your Majesty, Wolsey failed in his duties. He is undeserving of being returned to your favor and the position that he once held; he continuously failed you, Your Majesty." Cromwell straightened, somehow looking more relaxed. "Wolsey was good to me and a good man. The best way that I can repay him for what he did for me, is to become a much better and successful man than he ever was."

Henry smiled. "If you continue your progress, I foresee you succeeding, Mr. Cromwell. You have impressed me; it is not often that I am. Your reputation is poor; there are many who detest you."

"Your Majesty can decide on what kind of man I am; you can decide if my reputation is true or not."

"I can," he nodded. "I _have..._ Your suggestion is one with which I agree. In a few months, the marriage will take place and then, God willing, a true Prince of Wales will be born for the first time in decades. Now bring me Lady Anne!"

Cromwell's lips curved slightly and he backed away, bowing perfectly. "At once, Your Majesty. I will see to it myself."

XxXxXxXxXxX

 _June 1529_

"His Majesty has requested your presence, Lady Anne." Cromwell suddenly appeared out of the shadows behind them and she saw Suffolk glance at him curiously.

"Mr. Cromwell?" Anne looked at him in hope. "Why does His Majesty need me? What for?"

"Is it Queen Catherine, Mr. Cromwell?" Suffolk stared at Cromwell intently. "Has she… _agreed?"_

Cromwell paused for a moment before he bowed his head to them both, particularly making a show of it to Anne, something that he had never done before, the action a beacon in Anne's heart; she understood!

"She's _gone?"_ She whispered, trembling. "She saw _reason?_ God has shown her the truth?"

"There is no longer a Queen of England. Henceforth, she is to be referred to as the Dowager Princess of Wales."

Feeling frozen, Anne watched as Suffolk blinked. "Really? I had hoped that she would… yet I had braced myself for her stubbornness."

"I will see His Majesty," she rushed out and as graciously as she could, she parted through them, ignoring everyone as she made her way to Henry's privy chambers, heart racing. Was this a dream? Was it a cruel joke? Had the ancient and barren Catherine finally been toppled from her position of unruly stubbornness? Her mind was clouded with a mixture of euphoria and apprehension; she wouldn't believe it until she heard it from Henry's own lips.

When she arrived, one of the servants immediately opened the door for her, not saying a word, and she tried to calm herself, but when she stepped into the room and saw her Henry, she knew that she had failed. He stared at her for a moment before a huge smile swept across his features, chasing away the apprehension inside her heart.

"Anne."

Wetting her dry lips, she spoke. "Your Majesty, Mr. Cromwell- "

Before she could continue, Henry darted forward and pulled her into his chest. "Catherine's yielded," he breathed out and she had never heard such glorious and freeing words. "We are free to marry."

"God has saved us," she whispered into his chest. "He looks on us fondly."

"Oh, Anne, my loving sweetheart." Henry pulled back and tipped her head upward with his fingers, their lips meeting in a passionate and loving kiss. She basked in Henry's love and when he pulled back, she opened her eyes, locking them onto her own, and finally, Anne felt the tears spill down her cheeks. "The golden age is soon upon us. Our sons will be mighty and strong, and our daughters as beautiful as their mother."

"You flatter me, Your Majesty- "

"Stop that. Whenever we are alone, you refer to me as Henry, my love. I would have it no other way. You are mine and I am yours. Finally, we can be together as God intended us to be."

"When are we marrying, Henry?" His name fell from her lips smoothly and she watched with misty eyes as he closed his eyes at the sound. "What about the Pope and the Emperor?"

"We will marry in several months; it will give England time to readjust. Catherine was mistakenly much-beloved, and after Blackfriar, it will take some time for them to grasp the truth, but they will love you. You will be Queen Anne, the true and rightful wife of their King."

Anne smiled, ghosting her fingertips across Henry's cheeks. "And the Pope and Emperor? They will be _silenced?"_

"They can do _nothing_. If they do, Mr. Cromwell has begun drafting a plan to ignore them," he assured, kissing her fingers reverently. "Catherine, in spite of her reasoning, agreed of her own free will and remember, Kings have gotten divorced all of the time. The Pope cannot decree my union with you invalid or blasphemous before God since Catherine relented, whatever her reasons. The Emperor will be furious, but that is no surprise. His House of Hapsburg wants all of Christendom to belong to them, but he will never gain England, nor France either. Francois despises the Emperor as much as I do!"

"A smart man, then."

"Aye, I suppose he is. Once we are married, if it pleases you, I will send our ambassador to him with the details for an alliance between him and I. Would you like that, sweetheart?"

"I would like nothing more than for such an alliance. Perhaps, once we have our sons and daughters, we could draw up marriage contracts, as well."

"A Valois-Tudor bloodline. Who would have thought?" Henry laughed suddenly, sounding more joyous than she had ever heard. "There would be no need to conquer France at all. My grandsons will naturally inherit it." Henry pulled her hands up to his lips, "Are you happy, Anne? Do you feel as joyful as I do?"

"Henry, my love, I am the most _happy."_

"Then join me," he pulled her to the table, where a feast was laid out. "Let us celebrate, and after, we will _fully_ be together."

Anne's eyes widened, "Henry, are you _certain?_ I could fall pregnant and if so, our child will be hailed as a bastard."

"Cease your worries, sweetheart. We are to be married in only a few months. If you fall pregnant from our joining, no one will know it, and even if they did, I would execute anyone who declares our son a bastard." Henry pulled out a chair for her and Anne smiled at him lovingly, unable to stop her heart from softening even further. No matter what happened, her children would be loved by their father.

XxXxXxXxXxX

 _July 1529_

"I never imagined that Wolsey would fail you so terribly, Your Majesty." Thomas shook his head, sipping from his cup. "I had thought him to be punctual beyond any other."

"But one cannot walk a straight line their entire life," Charles pointed out. "We found the evidence of Wolsey's correspondence with the Pope and the Dowager Princess of Wales not even a fortnight ago. It was Mr. Cromwell who presented the information."

Henry frowned slightly at Thomas' own frown at Charles' words, specifically when the Dowager Princess of Wales was mentioned. He tried to ignore the reasoning his old friend could have such a reaction. "Yes, Wolsey has certainly fallen far. The news of his treachery forces me to contemplate everything that he's done for me. What if he dabbled in other treacherous activities?" Norfolk smiled slyly and Henry raised an eyebrow. "Have you news of this, Your Grace?"

"Your Majesty, as my brother-in-law, your intended Queen's father, once revealed, I think that it be best if you speak with him about your finances- "

"Aye, you speak of Wolsey stealing from me," he leaned his head back in sadness. "Forgive me, Your Grace. I had not believed you and Lord Wiltshire at the time, but I see now, that I should have."

"Wolsey _stole_ from you, Your Majesty?" Thomas put down his cup, looking astonished.

Henry couldn't help but notice that Norfolk looked smug. "Yes, Lord Chancellor. My brother-in-law discovered that when corrupt religious houses were being closed down, instead of all of their assets going to His Majesty's exchequer, as they are rightfully supposed to do, they were often diverted elsewhere, directly into Wolsey's own private foundations."

Thomas closed his eyes, "For the creation of his great college at Oxford, I would surmise."

"Correct, Thomas," Henry sighed. "He stole from me, he tried to keep me tied to the lying Catherine, he called my loving Anne 'a silly girl,' and he pretended to be my friend. I wonder if I was so blind because Wolsey had entered my life from such a young age."

Nobody dared say anything and he welcomed the stiff silence, taking heart that soon, everything would be okay. He would be able to marry Anne and have his son, saving England from a pretender who would seek to destroy the Tudor dynasty such as the Emperor.

"Your Majesty, if it would please you," Charles met his eyes. "I request leave to return to my estate to gather my Mary along with other things for your upcoming wedding to Lady Anne."

Henry suddenly realized how Anne's standing needed elevating and a thought occurred to him. "Thank you, Your Grace; you have just given me cause to pause. Yes, I give you leave to return to my sister, but only after I elevate Lady Anne to a title that speaks of my love for her. She will soon be Queen of England; she needs a status required of one."

"What are you thinking, Your Majesty?" Charles looked curious, "What peerage do you believe would be best bestowed upon her?"

"A Marquess," he responded, a smile curving his lips. "She will be the Marquess of Pembroke."

"An excellent choice, Your Majesty." Norfolk smoothly declared, "My niece will certainly succeed where others have failed."

"Yes, she will. Through her, my son will be strong and mighty." Henry murmured before turning to both Charles and Norfolk. "Your Graces, I wish to speak to my Chancellor alone." He then specifically addressed Norfolk. "I thank you for bringing Wolsey's betrayals to my attention; I will not ignore such findings ever again. You have done well, and when my Anne becomes Queen, there will be a discussion pertaining to your future."

Norfolk narrowly hid his delight, curving his lips into a gracious smile. "I am Your Majesty's humble servant." The Duke bowed his head and just as civilly left the room.

"Henry, congratulations. Lady Anne deserves such a title." Charles said softly before he followed Norfolk.

Once the doors shut, Henry stared at his old friend, wondering if he could even call him that.

"What is it, Harry?" Thomas leaned forward. "Is something wrong?"

"You were quiet, Thomas, and I now have begun to feel suspicious. Why is that?"

Thomas' lips parted, "Harry, forgive me. I just did not think it appropriate."

Henry's eyes narrowed. " _Appropriate?_ So you hold an opinion not shared by myself or their Graces… You hold no approval for the Lady Anne, do you?"

"I suppose that I am just still in shock that Her Majesty- I mean, the Dowager Princess of Wales elected to forego her title and marriage to you."

He leaned his head back, staring at Thomas, silent for several moments. "You did not answer my question, Thomas. Your avoidance of it speaks louder than your words ever could."

Thomas seemed to hesitate for a moment before he spoke. "I find it questionable, how… the Dowager Princess of Wales simply gave up after her utterly convincing testimony at Blackfriar. I found how she chose to enter the nunnery… _distasteful_."

"Why? My conscience is finally clean."

"Oh, do not do _that,_ Harry. I am no fool; do not treat me as such. We both know that you wanted this divorce because you no longer loved her, because you have become infatuated with Anne Boleyn."

"The fact that my _brother's widow_ has confirmed that she was no virgin when we married does not bother you, Thomas? She has _confirmed it!_ She and Arthur laid together as man and woman, as husband and wife, and I was too much of a fool to see that before. God has been punishing me all these years! If not for her lies, my innocent Prince Hal would be a man and married by now!"

"She claimed adamantly, many times, that she was untouched. I believe her, and I also believe that something caused her to suddenly relent to your wishes. You wanted a divorce- "

"There are _precedents!_ King Louis XII was allowed to set aside his first wife. Look at my _sister._ She married James IV and after his death, remarried; then she divorced him and remarried last year! The Pope granted her a divorce but not _me._ I have a greater need than her but the Pope _refused._ Charles had a marriage put aside that needed no inquiry! I need a _son!_ _"_

"I do not like this, Harry."

Henry felt the darkness of his wrath roar in the back of his mind, but he stared at Thomas without any visible anger, refusing to repeat his mistakes of the past. "Answer me this, then, Thomas: If Catherine was untouched by my brother, why did she never give me any true healthy sons? How come my Prince Hal died after 52 days? How come all she gave me was a _sickly_ child in Mary and nothing else more save for _dead children?"_ Thomas swallowed and didn't answer, looking down at his hands. "You judge me, Thomas, and the thought wounds me. You have disappointed me. I acted hastily in appointing you as my Chancellor. You do not support my decision, your _King's_ decision in choosing Lady Anne as his Queen. I _hate disloyalty._ "

"Harry, you are making a grave error." Thomas looked up at him boldly, "Queen Catherine loves you and while it is true that she gave you no sons, she is still your rightful wife and Queen. Go back to her, I beg you."

"Your pleading falls on deaf ears, Thomas," he said lowly, concealing his clenched fists beneath the table. "I need a son, a true heir! Are you _deaf?_ I am all that remains of the Tudor Dynasty save for my sister, and nephew and nieces through Charles, but I need a son of my own! I want my father's dynasty to continue. The haggard and deceiving Catherine has failed to do that!" Henry purposefully inhaled slowly, calming himself before he began to bellow and rage at his mentor. "I do not love Catherine, and honestly, it is hard to remember when I ever did. When I first sat on my throne, I loved her; it was a consuming infatuation for my _brother's wife._ What I feel towards Anne surpasses that."

"I cannot stand idly by as- "

"You will _learn_ to!" Henry rose to his feet, glaring down at Thomas. "I have done nothing against the Church or His Holiness; you should be _praising_ me for my patience and graciousness. You do not like Lady Anne but have you met her, spoken to her, or have you merely listened to what the slanderers declare? What did you teach me all of those years ago? Not to fully make a decision until I _knew_ everything. You do not follow your own teachings, Thomas."

"Harry, I do- "

"The time for 'Harry' is over."

"You are right: I do not agree with your choice, Your Majesty. My conscience is burdened and I must share what is on my mind. I fear that in your decision, you have doomed England to the Lutheran heretics."

" _Why?"_

"There are rumors that the Boleyns are Lutherans, that if you do sire children through Anne Boleyn, they will be raised to hate the Church and His Holiness. I fear that even you, Your Majesty, could be enraptured by Anne Boleyn's words and break away from Rome."

Henry thought to his numerous vows to do just that, but since Catherine had finally accepted the truth, he didn't see that ever happening - even if the book that Anne had given him made a lot of sense, made more sense than all of the teachings that he had been taught. "You offend me, Thomas. Do you think me such a fool? I am no _fool!_ These rumors are fallacies, Thomas. Of course, they have reached my ears. Elizabeth Barton has prophecied many lies. The truly vicious ones only started after the news of Catherine's entering of a nunnery, dissolving our marriage. This is merely the work of bitter and wounded people, Thomas. They are nothing more than slander."

"But, Your Majesty, what evidence is there is there that discredits them?"

"What evidence is there to _credit_ them, Thomas?" Henry paused and a terrible thought occurred to him. "You really do not like my Anne, do you? Why are you so insistent about these rumors? You are not the one who fueled them, are you?"

"Your Majesty, I would _never_ spread such malicious slander about anyone. I only have England's best interests at heart- "

"And I _do not?"_

"I do not want England to become like Germany under that heretic, Luther. I do not want to see the Papal authority in England _decimated_."

"I will marry Anne, and you need not worry about any of that happening, Thomas. Leave me, now. Your _conscience_ should be clear."

"It is."

Henry felt some anger enter his tone. "Leave Court until you are summoned back for my wedding to Anne. I will find a replacement Chancellor."

Thomas' eyes widened, lips parting in shock. "Harry- "

"You are bold, stupidly so. I will make it no secret that you have angered me."

"If Your Majesty wishes my departure, I will do so without question." Thomas bowed his head before he left the room slowly, his head held high.

Henry sat back down in the chair, rubbing his face tiredly. How quickly things could change. He knew Thomas and while he wished that he could feel surprised at his old friend's thoughts and worries, he wasn't. Thomas was a good man, a man of unquestionable morals, but he was narrow-sighted.

Sometimes, such as now, Henry realized that he was most alone; the mantle of King was grand and immortal, but the burden it cast was overwhelming. Thomas was only looking at these events through his own eyes, and he couldn't see the bigger picture. England was currently on the brink of a dynastic collapse because Henry had foolishly married his brother's widow, and he was now doing what was best for his country, his lands, his people.

If only those who sought him harm would realize that, if only those such as Thomas, who were too consumed by their own fallacies, could see that. A change was coming to England, but many feared the change, despised it with their entire being. Without change, the vile Richard III, Henry's own uncle, would still be King. It was through his father's determination and strong will that brought a betterment to England through change, but now that Henry began to do the same, his former mentors and friends, such as Thomas, rebelled against the idea.

Although Henry still felt furious with the Pope, with the entire Papacy, he wasn't going to break away from Rome, now, not after Catherine finally yielded. Thomas didn't need to worry about Papal authority in England being abolished unless the Pope interfered with his marriage to Anne. England was more important than what the Pope wanted and Henry wasn't fully certain that he trusted Clement because the man had shown how he was willing to disregard the obvious truth many times. It also didn't help that the Emperor had shown his own inclination to interfere in England's affairs when he had no right to do so.

Henry closed his eyes and sighed, forcing himself to stop wondering about the many things that could go wrong before he and Anne's wedding. Instead, he tried to instill a steadfast serenity that would keep him calm.

In over a month's time, he and Anne would be married and he prayed to God that everything would go according to plan.

XxXxXxXxXxX

 _August 1529_

"My Master, England has fallen to doom; it will succumb to heretics." Chapuys' Spanish-spoken words were crisp but he didn't dare look up at his master, keeping his eyes rooted to the floor. "Your aunt has entered a nunnery because of increasing, unbearable pressure from King Henry. She has stepped down from her rightful throne to pave the way for the Boleyn whore to spread Lutheranism through England. The Boleyn whore is a witch; she has engulfed the mind of King Henry to put aside such a pious and outstanding woman so that she can become the Queen of England. Just recently, because of her dark and arcane magics, she has been elevated to a Marquess. In only a fortnight, they are to be married, from what my sources tell me." Chapuys slowly pulled a roll of parchment out to present it to his master. "Here, my master. Your aunt has written you a letter."

"Read it to me."

Chapuys wet his lips. "Of course, if that is your wish," he unfurled the parchment and the words sucked him in. "She says:

 _My dearest nephew,_

 _I write to you with a burdened heart and soul. I fear that your confidence in me to remain strong was misplaced and overvalued. I'm certain that you know of the truth, but I need you to hear it from me instead of others. My husband, His Majesty the King, came to me late at night after my testimony at Blackbriar, after I had been certain that I swayed his mind. I was wrong. He demanded that I enter a nunnery or else all of England will be at war once more because of my failure to birth him sons. He said that he would declare the Pope a heretic and marry whom he pleased. He said that he would force me to enter a nunnery, whether I want to or not. I didn't see my husband that night; I saw His Majesty's callous father, the seventh Henry._

 _His Majesty was vicious and ruthless, more than he has ever been before. My tears did nothing except make him angrier and when I tried to reason with him, he silenced me with words that echoed in my mind with a terrible truth. While I will always be His Majesty's true wife and Queen, I chose to step down because of my love for Mary; he revealed what would happen if my precious daughter became Queen of England by her lonesome: he said that they would kill her, that they wouldn't accept her. I don't want Mary to be hated; I want her to be loved as she should. His Majesty also furiously declared that you would rule England through her, my nephew, using my Mary as a puppet. I know that's not true, but the thought did scare me because if Mary became Queen and married someone who had such aspirations, His Majesty would be correct about England succumbing to war once again because England's children are proud. They would never accept a foreign man as their King, and they would rebel against my daughter._

 _His Majesty will marry Anne Boleyn soon and I have been sent to a nunnery; it's a nice one, but I miss my homes at court, in the palace. I miss His Majesty, but I love my daughter more. To give her a happy life, I have relented to His Majesty's demands. I'm sorry, nephew. I know that I have brought you shame, brought our family embarrassment, and while I am angry with His Majesty and bitter about what has happened, I would do it a thousand times over for my daughter if that's what it takes to give her happiness, the life that she deserves._

 _Promise me that you will still look after my Mary. I fear that I don't have much time left on God's Earth. Since His Majesty's Great Matter began, my health has been robbed of much of its vitality, and if I continue as I have, I believe that I only have a few years left, if even that much. Promise me, Carlos, that you will look after Mary, will keep her best interests at heart. If you can, speak with His Majesty about a possible marriage between Mary and one of your nephews or cousins. I want her to be happy and I'm afraid that I won't be able to see that happiness. I've lost too many children and I cannot lose her. I am your humble servant, my nephew._

 _Catherine, the Dowager Princess of Wales."_

Chapuys felt indignation swirl inside his heart, but he remained silent, waiting for his master to speak. For several moments, there was a heavy silence before the shadow from the throne enlarged as his master stood to his feet.

"How _dare_ he?" Chapuys echoed the anger in his own mind. Who was King Henry to rebel against the Papacy and his master? "He has humiliated my _House!_ I should have his head for this unforgivable slight against my favorite aunt!"

"Master, I caution you: You cannot afford to go to war with England, and it would not be unheard-of if King Francois joined King Henry against us."

"You are right, Chapuys. My forces are spread too thin; his navy would crush us. _Damn_ King Henry, damn him to _hell!"_

"All is not lost, my master. Pope Clement VII is still within your power."

"What are you saying, my friend?"

"Perhaps if you show His Holiness the letter that your aunt has written to you, show him the evidence that Anne Boleyn has used her dark witchcraft on King Henry, he will act."

"Yes. According to my aunt, King Henry proclaimed that he would declare his Holiness a heretic, did he not? I know King Henry; he is a pious man. He would never say such a thing if the Boleyn whore had not poisoned his mind. Pope Clement and I are still at odds, though; he wishes my death."

Chapuys thought quickly of a solution. "Perhaps if he decrees that King Henry return to your aunt, the rightful Her Majesty Queen of England, that a marriage with Anne Boleyn would be blasphemy against God, that any children borne through such a union would be illegitimate in the eyes of both God and man, you give him some of his once-held power back."

"You are clever, my friend. That is an excellent suggestion, and I will see to it. Meanwhile, I want you to go directly to England to deal with the Boleyn whore. I want you to plead with King Henry and try to visit my aunt; you need to keep an eye on my cousin, Mary, too. I have plans for her."

XxXxXxXxXxX

 **Okay, that's it for this chapter, everyone. Sorry for such a wait but I hit some writer's block for it.**

 ****Charles Brandon and Anne Boleyn reach a compromise and agree to become 'friends.' I always thought that if history had turned out differently, if the show had, this dynamic would have been very interesting and I'm excited to see what happens.**

 ****Catherine agrees to enter a nunnery! I don't whether that surprised you or not, but it was always the plan with how I envisioned it happening. In the first chapter, Henry viciously tore into her with words of truth, forcing her to see the truth, at least from a certain point-of-view. Her reasoning becomes clear: she did it only for her daughter because she wants her to be happy. I honestly have no idea how Catherine of Aragon treated her daughter in history, but in the show, she treasured Mary above all others. In my mind, that would be the ONLY way that she would ever yield and relent to Henry's wishes. She always believed herself to be Henry's wife, in real-life history. Even on her deathbed when she was all alone and Henry was married to Anne, she declared herself Henry VIII's wife.**

 **In case you were wondering, Anne's year of birth for this is 1507 because, logically, it's the one that makes the most sense for the time period, the era. In real history, if she had been born in 1501 as many, for some reason, believe, Anne was married to Henry at 32-years-old. That is a very old number for women at the time to give birth. In fact, Catherine of Aragon's last pregnancy was when she was 32-years-old herself. I find it very strange that Henry VIII would marry someone that old to have his son because remember, he wanted his son above anything. Yes, he did love Anne and was willing to wait for years, but the only reason why he put Catherine aside was that of her failure to give him his necessary son and heir. (If Catherine had given him a healthy son, if Prince Hal Duke of Cornwall had lived, then Catherine would NEVER be put aside.) It makes much more sense for Anne Boleyn being born in 1507; she would be 19 when Henry first asked her to marry him in 1527 instead of 26. (Women who were 26-years-old back then would be considered unmarriable because they were so old. Remember, Anne was never married before and it makes no sense that she wouldn't have somehow been married before - a la Elizabeth Woodville.) It's also been reported in multiple sources from way back then, such as Jane Dormer, Duchess of Feria (1538-1612), who knew Elizabeth I, that Anne wasn't even 29-years-old when she was executed. If some of you don't agree with my assessment, that's fine, but there's a fascinating and compelling read about the age issue by Garet H Russell: The age of Anne Boleyn. If you want, check it out!**

 ****Thomas More appears and is confronted by Henry! Admittedly, I don't know much about Thomas More from history besides his famous death because everything that I've read pretty much paints him as a martyr and it's very vague; all it does is present his issue for breaking away from Rome and the Catholic Church. So, that's what I tried to stick to because the Boleyn's are Lutherans and More fears that they will sway Henry to annihilate Papal supremacy in England.**

 ****The Holy Roman Emperor, Charles V of Spain (or Carlos in Spanish) appears with Chapuys! Okay, I had a difficult time writing that scene out because I didn't know what their reactions would be at first. Then, as I thought about it, it was obvious that they would be furious and demand that Henry go back to Catherine, based on their actions in the show and history. The Emperor single-handedly kept Henry from leaving Catherine for years through the Pope - although the Pope had a hand in it, too, undoubtedly. Chapuys was notorious for his hatred of Anne Boleyn and his loyalty towards Catherine of Aragon and Mary. So, I tried to keep that the same.**

 **Charles V and Pope Clement VII had a big feud, actually. It's not really touched upon in the show, but Pope Clement VII was against the Emperor and tried to form an alliance, the League of Cognac, to challenge the Emperor's supremacy in Italy, which then led to the Sacking of Rome in 1527, and then the Pope's imprisonment. (The sacking of Rome wasn't a direct order from the Emperor, and Charles V, while embarrassed by what happened, quickly accepted the advantage gave him and took full liberties with it.) I do find it greatly amusing how the Emperor tried to bend the Catholic Church to his will, but when Henry tried to sort of do the same thing, and when he later broke away from the Church, the Emperor condemned Henry for it. It's quite hypocritical, actually. But then again, what else can you expect from monarchs?**

 **That's it. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask them. I'd be more than willing to answer them. Please leave a review to tell me what you thought about it because it would help me out.**

 _ **Stay Safe  
**_ **ButtonPusher**


	3. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the reviews, everyone! It makes my day every time I see a new one.**

 **About Thomas More's morals: That was stated in Henry's point-of-view; it was his thoughts about Thomas, who was always a friend to him until recently. In history, yes, his morals weren't really that great and quite hypocritical, especially from a modern lens, but Henry has always thought Thomas More a good man. It makes what happens to More by Henry VIII's orders even more ironic.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own** _ **The Tudors**_ **TV show or any of the characters. I guess that history technically owns them, but you know how it goes.**

XxXxXxXxXxX

 _August 1529_

"I do not _understand,_ " his wife's voice was furious and hurt. "My brother loves Catherine; he always has!"

Charles knew that he had to tread carefully; his wife and best friend were so similar that sometimes, he wondered if their souls were linked beyond that of full siblings.

"I think that he did at first," he consoled as he drank from the goblet, watching his wife's pacing body, her features scrunched tightly; her eyes that were so like his friend's were welling with thick tears. "But things can change. We are some of the only ones who truly remember when Henry took the throne after your father's death."

"Yes, and he _chose_ Catherine!" Mary snapped, "I remember well. All of the advisors did not want him to marry her but Henry ignored them; he saved her and made her Queen. So what if she did not bear him sons?"

"You do not mean that, Mary." Charles kept his voice soft, spaced out between his words. "You are angry and I understand, but everyone knows that His Majesty must have a healthy son to succeed him. I know that it is hard to hear, but Catherine failed in that regard; she only gave him Pri- …Mary," he would need to ask his friend what his niece's title was; everything was currently so convoluted. "The Cousins' War was recent; we cannot return to its bloodshed with false claimants to the throne clashing for Henry's seat of ultimate power."

"She is my _friend!"_

"I know she is," he stood to his feet and looking at his wife's shaking form, he felt sympathy. "Catherine was always kind to me in my presence; she was a worthy Queen. But your brother has tired of her; he needs an heir and Catherine stepped down to enter a nunnery."

"And now he loves this Anne Boleyn. He is going to _marry_ her," she spat, shaking her head angrily. "How could he?"

"We married for love, did we not?" Charles asked evenly, unsurprised when his wife froze. "I married you in secret after Louis XII's passing in France all without Henry's blessing, and it was because I loved you. You were considered a jewel of Christendom, one of the most beautiful Princesses. Your destiny was not to be wasted on a mere low-born Duke such as me; you were to bring an alliance to England."

"I knew that my brother… he would not keep his promise."

"Me too," he said honestly. "I know him better than anyone and because of that, I knew that losing my head was a very, very real possibility for marrying you."

Mary's face softened and she approached him, wrapping her fingers around the back of his neck. "But you… you still married me."

"Aye, I did. I braved the storm of Henry's unholy wrath but we survived because he loves us; if it were anyone else, I would be dead and you would be disgraced."

"I am aware."

"We were given our own wedding in England in front of the entire Court; we only had to repay the dowry to France back to your brother in fines, and of course, I had to beat him in the arm wrestling match."

"I still cannot believe that happened."

"It was the most nerve-wracking experience of my life," he admitted. "I was much more confident and calm marrying you than I was when he and I battled. But everything turned out well; we have beautiful children and Henry still loves us more than almost anybody."

"And now he loves Anne Boleyn," she whispered. "Does he… love her more than us?"

"Yes, he does," he refused to be anything but blunt because it was important. "Look what happened to Wolsey; the Boleyns and Norfolk secured the outcome."

"I like Wolsey," his wife smiled sadly. "He is a good man who always knew his place and duty; he soothed Henry's initial fury at our marriage."

"He was stealing from His Majesty."

" _What?"_ Mary's lips parted and authentic shock shone in her eyes. "He would never!"

"But he did," he felt his own sadness compress. "I looked over the records myself to make sure that Norfolk and Wiltshire were not trying to trick Henry in their vendetta against Wolsey. He stole from your brother's exchequer for the creation of his great college at Oxford."

"And without Wolsey, Anne Boleyn has gained power; she is now a Marquess."

"Indeed, but it is because Henry loves her." Charles nodded and remembered the past, "It is the same reason why I am a Duke and still living; the King's love is strong for those who hold it, but his wrath is a tempest for those who provoke him."

Mary looked up at him; the tears were gone but she still looked saddened. "How can I support my brother's marriage to Anne Boleyn? Catherine was a good wife to him and she is my friend."

"Yes, but she was a Queen; she knew the potential risks."

"I am aware. I was Queen of France, remember?"

"I will always remember."

Mary sighed, "I will try to support my brother, but I have not a clue if I will support Anne Boleyn. I know her sister, but not her; there will be differences."

"I hated her at first."

"What changed?"

"I saw the authentic affection between her and Henry; it surpasses everything that I ever saw between him and Catherine. Henry is King and we are but his servants, no matter how much he loves us; this is his decision, not ours. We only incur his wrath by debating it."

Mary smiled sadly, "I will do my best, but no promises will escape these lips yet."

"Then we should see what else your lips can do." Charles smirked roguishly, "I missed you at Court."

"You sly-tongued- " she was cut off when Charles kissed her and led her to the bed.

XxXxXxXxXxX

 _August 1529_

"My beautiful Mary," he smiled down at his daughter, waving Cromwell out. "Your safe return pleases me."

"Father," she intoned stiffly with a bow and his smile faded. "I yearn to say the same, but it would be a lie."

Henry ignored her, instead choosing to stare at her for a moment, unwilling to admit aloud that he had no idea how to begin the conversation, but he forced himself to speak. "I am aware that the circumstances surrounding… your mother's change in status- "

Mary's eyes burned with pain. "My words cannot clearly express the sorrow that you have inflicted upon me. 'Tis most unjust and entirely cruel."

"If you are not going to mind your tongue than at least mind your tone, my daughter. I am not just your father but your King."

"Forgive me, Your Majesty," she hastily fell to her knees. "I meant no disrespect. My allegiance forever lies to you and your throne."

"I cannot help but wonder if you did mean it." Henry murmured thoughtfully, trying to keep his temper from coloring his words. "Everything that you knew was a lie," he frowned when she didn't speak. "Speak with words of honesty, Mary. I give you leave."

"I do not understand, father!" Mary finally looked up at him with tear-stained cheeks, but she remained kneeling. "Mother is your Queen, your lawful wife! Now you choose this _whore_ over- "

"You go too far, Mary," he warned lowly. "I love Anne and will not allow you to slander her good name."

"There is nothing _good_ about her!" His daughter spat and Henry felt aghast. What had happened to his beloved pearl? "She stole you away; she is nothing but a power-craving whore who yearns to spread the foul, depraved teachings of _Lutheranism!"_

"That is _enough!"_ Henry's eyes turned to slits and he loomed over Mary. "I gave you leave to be honest but all you speak are lies. You have become foolish, just as your deceitful mother."

" _No!_ Mother is your lawful wife and has always been truthful!"

"Your mother has willingly entered a nunnery by her own choice. I did not force her; she is no longer my wife. She never was! You know not of the lies with which she has filled your head, my daughter. I fear that it is too late."

Mary's eyes widened and her cheeks turned red with anger; it reminded Henry of himself. "Father, turn back from this accursed mistake. Plead for forgiveness- "

"A King never _pleads!"_ Henry shook his head in disgust, "It is time that you learned the truth. I will marry Anne and she will bear my son; she is already pregnant with him. It is a sign! God has rewarded me for rebelling against the heretical Pope!"

" _Father!"_ Mary gasped in horror; tears spilled down her cheeks, falling to the floor with the force of cannons. "She has corrupted you with her dark magics; turn away from her before you doom England!"

"I would have doomed England if I had stayed with your mother!" Henry snapped; his fury was explosive and he did not shy away from it this time. He embraced it with remarkable ease and it swept through him. "Your mother failed because of her lies! For twenty years, I have waited for my son, my rightful heir but have only received _dead children!"_

Mary sobbed and placed a hand to her quivering lips. "You- you have _me,_ father. I- I am your _heir_."

"I love you, Mary, but your facile thoughts are unacceptable. You will not be Queen of England; this is not Castille where your grandmother ruled. This is _England!_ She would never accept an absolute Queen; it would be the return of Matilda and that cannot occur. The Cousins' War is still fresh; its hold still grips many a heart. A strong son must be born to prohibit another civil war from erupting. Anne is already pregnant and she will give me my son; he will be a gift from God."

"No," his daughter frantically shook her head. "Mother taught me that- "

"Your mother taught you what to think, not how to!" Henry snapped, "Answer me this, Mary: What do you think would happen if you became Queen?"

"I would be the greatest Queen to live. I would secure an alliance with my cousins through marriage and unite our countries."

Henry stared down at her hard, wondering how he had allowed his daughter's thoughts to tread so dangerously a path. "England would then be subjugated if you did that, daughter. Its children would never accept it and they would fight back; they would depose of you and place someone else on my throne, someone not of my blood! Your cousins would rule through you and the damned Habsburg line would seek all of Christendom."

"No, father! I would keep that from happening."

"How?"

"I… I would marry someone else, then." Mary looked desperate and Henry finally felt his fury begin to return to its resting place. "I would marry an Englishman!"

"And that, too, would annihilate the House of Tudor, my father's dynasty that must be kept alive past me." Henry smiled grimly, "There would only be one way to keep that from happening, Mary, if you were to be Queen."

"What- what do you mean, father?"

"You would be wed to your half-brother."

Mary's eyes bulged in horror, " _Hal?_ No, father! That is _blasphemous!"_

Henry pounced, "The Pope did not seem to hold that opinion, my daughter. During my attempts to attain an annulment for my cursed marriage to your mother, the Pope hinted that he would be willing to issue a dispensation for you to marry Fitzroy if I ceased from my efforts." When he saw that his daughter was horror-stricken and speechless, Henry continued. "The Pope was correct; by marrying you to Fitzroy, it would unite the throne and keep the House of Tudor alive through my grandsons that you would bear my son."

His daughter swallowed and found words. "Then… if his Holiness believes that to be the best, I- I will marry Hal."

"But that is not best!" Henry closed his eyes in an effort to keep his temper from re-appearing fully. "I would never allow that. You will not be Queen of England and you will marry a worthy man of my choosing. I will have a true son to my name through Anne and bring about the golden age; we will prevail because of my decisions, Mary."

"Your decisions are breaking away from the Church, father! Don't you see that?" Mary bowed her head against the floor, "Save your soul from eternal damnation and return to the Church's teachings. This is not God's path! Has your conscience been blotted out by your whore's magics?"

"God and my conscience are perfectly agreed. If you speak words of slanderous lies about my Anne again, I will throw you into the Tower, Mary."

"How can you do this?" She cried out desperately, "Stop this, please! This is _madness!"_

"Your cousin, Carlos has done much worse than me." Henry murmured, watching as his daughter froze. "You have claimed to admire your cousins from Spain, but should you? Carlos has always had nefarious intentions for Rome and he has pounced with his fucking sack. He is already the Holy Roman Emperor, but he is now practically the Pope himself, is he not? Clement is only a figurehead but the true power belongs to Carlos, now. I know that it does; it is quite ingenious but wholly terrifying. He will eventually, if he has not already, imprison the Pope and wield his power just as Ferdinand did with Carlos' mother. It is already in his blood for he is Ferdinand's grandson and he will control all of Christendom to sate his lust for power."

"He would _never!"_

"You are too blind to see the truth right now," he gestured for her to rise and she slowly did; the tears were stained to her cheeks and her eyes were red. "Your emotions are in chaos but you will see that this is God's plan, Mary. I am to wed Anne and she will have my legitimate, rightful, mighty son. Nothing will stop it."

"If… if that… that is Your Majesty's chosen path."

Henry frowned, "It is God's chosen path, Mary. You have yet to open your eyes."

"My eyes see clearly and I fear of what your treachery will summon."

To keep himself from yelling at his daughter, he focused on the last thing that he wanted to do. "Mr. Cromwell! Bring him in!"

The door swung open and Cromwell appeared but before he could speak, the Spanish Ambassador, Eustace Chapuys strode in with deceptively soft intent. When Henry had first met Chapuys, he had summoned all of the strength within himself to keep from sending him away. He didn't like him; he was well-acquainted with men of Spain and knew of the zealotry by which they lived. During their conversation, Chapuys had made desperate attempts sponsored by the Emperor that Henry should stop and turn away from Anne. While he had indulged in his familiar and beckoning fury with Chapuys the first time, bellowing at him that he knows nothing save admiration for his foul, deceitful master, he refused to do so again - at least with his daughter around.

Chapuys, upon seeing Mary, immediately fell to his knees in a reverent bow - it looked much more sincere than the one that he had given Henry earlier. "Princess Mary," his words were crisp and smooth, on the verge of awe. "I have heard much about you. I am Eustace Chapuys, the Ambassador for Spain. I am at your service. The Emperor expresses his deep love towards his beloved cousin, the Princess of England."

Mary looked toward Henry in shock and he nodded. "You are still a Princess of England, my daughter. Your full titles and rights still apply because my false-marriage with your mother was one of believed good faith; you are my daughter no matter what. You are a Tudor but as I said earlier, you will never sit on my throne." Henry caught the quick, barely noticeable frown by Chapuys but it was not imagined. "Chapuys arrived earlier this day in time to witness my wedding to Anne." Watching Chapuys closely, Henry was displeased by the sudden tightness in the Ambassador's body. "That was your reason for your arrival, was it not, Ambassador?"

"Of course, of course, King Henry." Chapuys relaxed and his features smoothed out; he seemed sincere but Henry felt the deception. "That was not my only reason. My Master has expressed great interest in establishing a marriage contract to tie Princess Mary to either his young son, Prince Felipe or nephew, Maximillian."

Henry noticed that his daughter looked delighted but he shook his head firmly. "I will not think of such things yet," he smiled falsely; he would never consider such a match. "My mind is preoccupied with more important matters."

Mary bristled but nodded, "Very well, father, but I would be content to speak of this again."

"As would my Master," the Ambassador cut in. "This is an important matter."

"It is the furthest thing from my mind right now," he snapped. "My marriage is soon, in a matter of days. It is all that matters. Nothing is more important to me. Nothing ever has been."

XxXxXxXxXxX

 _August 1529_

Rome. The home of the Pope himself. The teeming heart of the Papacy that was part of Italy in only spirit - but the spirit was that of God and it ran deep, descending into the souls of desperate men. The land and water were one and it was the will of God in His grand design, just how His designated Vicar determined how man will use the land and water. Lately, the concern was only with empty stomachs - women's and children's. Survival. There was nothing else, not since the Sack of Rome two years prior when pandemonium and death had swept through the great city by the hands of the Emperor.

It was nearing sundown and an unseen blanket of misery was gradually lowered over Rome; figures were muted with the shadows and the night was to be welcomed with sad, understanding eyes. And with the never-ending, ever-strident quality of life since the Sack, carnal activities would quickly begin with women who were desperate for coins to feed their children, who were willing to do whatever it took. They were activities that the human race should have abandoned at the first light of God's creation, but in the dark times since the Sack, people began to argue that the only humans alive back then were Adam and Eve - and Cain and Abel, of course. None of them recorded what they did with their bodies, and their thoughts weren't in God's book, so who cared if the women sold their bodies?

The streets were permanently stained with blood and human excrement, and death was an all-too-familiar commodity. Struck down by famine, disease, and men, bodies were piled along the streets - who cared? Disinterested observers frequently watched as the bodies were looted of anything valuable and in some desperate cases, consumed by starving men - who cared?

A large horse, its matted fur belying the shining jewels encrusted in the saddle, sped through the streets, heading around St. Peter's Basilica towards the Apostolic Palace. Atop the horse was a messenger and to the muted figures in the street who watched him speed by, he was recognized as merely one more attempt by Pope Clement VII to re-establish himself as the Bishop of Rome in the face of the Emperor's control over him, but one that, based on the distressed features of the messenger, had not been successful.

Time passed with no effect; the muted figures remained where they were hunched over, the effects of starvation beginning to overwhelm. Disinterested, cautious eyes rose as several more horses with messengers galloped through the streets, ignoring the shrieked curses from the few men who still possessed strength. Then each became eerily silent from the sudden fury as the messengers continued onward and it was clear to see why; these were different messengers, ones not under the Pope's authority. The horses were more majestic, stronger, larger, and the attire of each messenger was more elaborate and brighter; it signified a rich, powerful employer.

A commotion caused eyes to turn; it was a violent eruption. Several men were tumbling through the street, heaving fists into every available opening. Near them, several gold coins lied in the open street, the waning sunlight causing them to gleam wickedly. The cause was easy to discern; the coins had fallen off of the majestic horses as they sped through the streets.

But the sight generated a resurgence in all of the muted figures; they slowly climbed to their feet. Women held their children close as husbands entered the fray for the golden coins. The street became wild and the chaos grew; more bodies fell and blood sprayed the various remaining men. One man stood straighter than the others; he was younger and thus stronger. His body was tall yet incredibly slender, attesting to his hunger, his need for the golden coins. What was truly different were his eyes; they were filled with zealous determination. He was winning the gruesome fight and after he pummeled the last man to the ground, smashing his foot into the man's skull for good measure, he reverently knelt down to pick up the golden coins.

Women shrieked in distress and children wailed but they were paid no mind by any of the remaining muted figures or the triumphant man. The sound of their hysterical cries drew attention, and another horse appeared in the street but a man of authority sat atop it with familiar ease; he held the authority and it was immediately recognized. Just the sight of this man caused everyone to shrink back to their perch, but they remained standing. The triumphant man held the coins to his chest and shuffled back, head bowed like that of a beaten child's.

"Give me the coins," the man on the horse demanded in a Spanish accent, his words gentle, yet there were subtle hints of indescribable agony should his demand go unheeded. "They cause nothing but death for your covetous kind."

No further words were needed for the once-triumphant man dropped the coins, recognizing that there was already too much agony in Rome. Who needed or would welcome more? So he gave up the few coins for which he had killed. Perhaps God would show favor to him in the future for his obedience.

The official hopped off of the horse and plucked the coins; he then ascended his horse with such ease that it stole breath. Not another word was spoken as he sped off down the street, heading towards the Apostolic Palace like the other horseman before him. A furious discontent echoed through the muted figures but no one said anything; they were not fools. But with everything quiet once again, a sound was heard. It was indistinct, yet they listened as it drew nearer. No one could determine what it was and finally, the once-triumphant man seemed to be tired of guessing.

He slowly peered past the corner of the street and then sprang back as if burned; his eyes were wide and his face was pale. "We are _dead_ ," he whispered and his entire thin body was trembling. "Rome is dead, His Holiness is dead. _All_ is dead."

"What is it?" One of the older men - he had not entered the fray for the golden coins, recognizing that he would have never won - demanded desperately. "What has happened?"

"He's come back," the once-triumphant man hissed and hysteria bulged in his gaunt flesh. "The Emperor has returned to Rome; it's _his_ banner! _Carlos V!_ He's come _back!"_

All at once, voices erupted in curses and distressed, disbelieving voices. But something quieted them to murmurs; the banner became visible as it edged past the corner of the street and the terrified voices were silenced. Rumbles of terrified awe suddenly echoed and the various figures fell to their knees to bow, watching with craning eyes as, indeed, the Emperor himself, Carlos V walked past them; he seemed to glide across the ground as a specter of God's holy might while an entourage of powerful, imposing guards surrounded him on every side.

The valiant robes and armor covered the Emperor's body and every figure who glimpsed the magnificent sight instantly knew that he was above them; he was a holy man, a man touched by God, and the most powerful man in the world. Little was seen of his face - where rumor claimed an enormous, off-putting chin resided - from their vantage point, but permeated with incredible wisdom and strength, Carlos V's extraordinary bearing was felt by all; it was a tangible smoke-like sensation that soaked through the territory of Rome in relentless waves.

The Emperor's footsteps were soft but deliberate - a man who knew of power and knew that he possessed it. But because it was so quiet, the sound of his footsteps was jarring, like that of a cannon exploding. With his entourage of guards, he walked slowly through the kneeling crowd of muted figures, past St. Peter's Basilica, and disappeared into the waning sunlight towards the Apostolic Palace.

XxXxXxXxXxX

 _August 1529_

The Emperor entered Pope Clement VII's grand apartment and felt the change in the air; it was subtle but all-too-familiar to one such as himself. It was the recognition of a higher authority, of greater power. The imperial eagle had returned to Rome to seize an opportunity with its Herculean-strengthened talons.

Near Clement, the body of a messenger attempting to warn His Holiness of the Emperor's approach laid; the hazed-over eyes were filled with death and terror. The Emperor glanced at it with dispassionate eyes and he flicked his fingers. Two of his men immediately moved towards the body and picked it up; they dragged it out of the Pope's apartment and returned just as quickly.

Finally, he moved his eyes to Clement and what he saw did not surprise him. Garbed in red robes, drawing an air of noble magnificence that seemed shallow to the Emperor's eyes, Clement sat before him stubbornly; his eyes were on fire and his long beard added rigidity to his stone-like features.

The Emperor fell to his knees and bowed his head before returning his eyes to Clement's. "Your Holiness, it relieves me to see you safe."

A frown graced the Pope's lips, "And why would I choose to believe your self-serving words, my son?" Clement's eyes roamed the various men in the room who were also kneeling behind the Emperor. "Your men struck down one of my most faithful messengers; he was a good, righteous boy. The continued presence of your gaolers has not been of benefit."

Rising to his feet, the Emperor allowed a small smile to dance across his lips. "You have misinterpreted the situation, Your Holiness. These men are but your protectors. They always have been."

Clement's eyes suddenly flashed, " _Bold deceiver!_ Your words may flow smoothly from your tongue but they are lies. I am not a child, my son. I am the Vicar of Christ, the Bishop of Rome, God's living presence on Earth. Every breath you take in Rome insults the Creator. You are not a protector but a conqueror. My League of Cognac had been designed to reduce your power, but I fear I have only increased it."

"I am a protector, Your Holiness. I have saved you from the path that you would have wandered without my steady, guiding hands- "

"Your blood-stained hands."

"- and I will secure my immortal glory. There is nothing that I would not do for the greater acclaim of my House of Habsburg, of my countries and my Empire. It has been my greatest ambition for my House to live in all of Christendom. God has recognized it and has rewarded me for my noble aspirations."

"I _disavow_ _you,_ Carlos Habsburg! Your deceit is from the mouth of Lucifer himself!"

"Your emotional upheaval has understandably- "

"I know exactly what you are doing." Clement interrupted angrily and the Emperor frowned. "Did your grandfather not do the same years ago? Since your Sack, after you released me to return to Rome, you sent many gaolers to accompany me. These gaolers have not strayed and have greatly limited my divine power. I am weak and it was your wicked intention, was it not? Now you intend to lock me away and wield my rightful power as your own."

The Emperor smiled coyly, "You are God's presence on Earth, but you have become blinded by your mortal endeavors. God is with me; his blessings have been most fruitful. God is displeased with you, Your Holiness. How else would we be in this position?"

" _Blasphemer!_ I am the Vicar of Christ, the heir to St. Peter." Clement raised his finger and pointed at him; his teeth seemed to elongate into an animal's fangs. "Drop to your knees once more and beg for mercy. Your vile slights will not stand."

"Now you truly misunderstand, Your Holiness. Your eyes are old and you see what is not there."

"What do you want? Why have you returned to Rome to humiliate me again?"

"You know of King Henry's upcoming marriage to the Lutheran, Anne Boleyn."

"Because your aunt, in an astonishing turn of events, entered a nunnery days after her vehement testimony at Blackbriar, the marriage will be legal. There is not enough evidence to convince me that Anne Boleyn is a heretic."

"It is not a legal marriage, Your Holiness. My aunt is King Henry's true wife and Queen. Everything that has happened to her because of the Boleyn whore is a direct insult to her, and more importantly, me."

"Your aunt entered the nunnery and it has caused the wide-spread belief that she lied; she was no virgin when King Henry entered her bed."

"And why do you think that my beloved aunt chose to step down?"

"The guilt of lying before God overwhelmed her; all her words previously spoken were lies. Your aunt shamed your entire house."

"The Boleyn whore did that through King Henry," the Emperor smoothly corrected. "My aunt is honest and she was forced into the nunnery."

"Speak plainly, Carlos. My patience is low."

"Your patience will remain ever-lasting, Your Holiness. Do not forget with whom God's favor lies."

Clement's magnificent red robes wavered as he struggled to control his temper. "Continue, my son."

"King Henry has always been a deeply pious man. I have always admired him for his obedience to God; he is a Defender of the Faith. Anne Boleyn is a known Lutheran; my spies have confirmed it. With her dark witchcraft, she has corrupted the benevolent Henry Tudor." The Emperor waved his hand and one of his loyal men immediately produced his aunt's letter; it was given to Clement's outstretched, wizened hand. "King Henry stated that he would declare you, Your Holiness, a heretic."

"Hmm…" Clement's eyes roamed the letter; he was silent for several minutes. "This… this stems from the influence of Anne Boleyn."

"Indeed," the Emperor's lips turned upward. "King Henry is notorious through Christendom for his piety. Such a drastic change could only result from- "

"A _whore_." Clement finished and his eyes were furious. "She is a follower of Lucifer's son, Luther. Anne Boleyn will be punished by God for her transgressions; she is a heretic."

"Start her punishment early, Your Holiness," the Emperor commanded. "Do not presume to deny me. You know happened to your League of Cognac and Swiss Guard."

Clement's eyes closed briefly with a deep sigh before they reopened. "What is it that you will order me to do?"

"You will issue a Papal Bull decreeing that King Henry cannot marry Anne Boleyn under any circumstances. If he does, he will be excommunicated and the marriage would never be seen legal by both God and man. Any children from their union would be perennial bastards, never to inherit their father's grand majesty. You will order him to return to my aunt."

"It is not a legal marriage, but if I intervene with a Papal Bull, I fear that the Boleyn whore will turn King Henry away from the Papacy and he will break away from Rome. Her dastardly hold on him is clearly strong."

"King Henry has become increasingly bold, but he- "

"Not as bold as you, Carlos." Clement hissed before he seemed to collect himself. "Carry on."

"- would never break away from Rome."

"We will see, my son. What is it that you fear?"

"I fear that your inability to act as God's presence on Earth has doomed Christendom to heresy. 'Tis why God has chosen me to be his steed, instead. I will fix what you have been unable to. Even if King Henry breaks away from Rome, we will rescue him from the dark clutches of the Boleyn whore and he will rightly return England to Rome."

"And if I refuse to submit?"

"I would be surprised. You would willingly allow England to fall into further heresy, allow one of God's greatest Kings to be further corrupted by the Boleyn whore? If that were the case, it does not matter. My men are prepared to do what they must to convince you."

Clement's eyes widened, "You would dare lay a hand against the _Vicar of Christ?"_

"I would, Your Holiness. God has chosen me to replace you. I am the Holy Roman Emperor; it is an inheritance of power that my predecessors neglected to stretch."

"Christendom will never stand for this; you are your grandfather reborn! Ferdinand would be proud of his treacherous grandson."

"Those who stand against me will fall; they have yet to realize that God is on my side. As for you, in my great benevolence, if you do as I command, I might return some of your once-held power." The Emperor drew himself to his full height; he towered over Clement. "Commit to a decision, Your Holiness."

"... I will issue the Papal Bull repudiating King Henry's marriage to the Boleyn whore."

The Emperor smiled, "Good."

XxXxXxXxXxX

 _September 1529_

The royal marriage of King Henry to the new Marquess Anne Boleyn was spectacular. When news of the former Queen Catherine's decision to enter a nunnery reached the ears of the Children of England, the reaction was of deep outrage. It was clear to see what had happened; she had lied at Blackbriar. She was no virgin and King Henry had been correct! Betrayal had run rampant through the hearts of many of the people, but that reaction had been anticipated.

The King's newest Chancellor, Thomas Cromwell, who replaced Thomas More - whom many whisper angered the King by speaking out about his new marriage - planned everything. King Henry and Marquess Anne Boleyn's matrimony was meticulously manipulated for maximum impact on not only England but all of Christendom. It was a signal of a fresh start, of a new change in status and power. Not since King Edward IV's stunning decision to marry much below his station to Queen Elizabeth Woodville - one of the many traits that his benevolent, handsome grandson inherited - was a marriage met with so much controversy through England.

Yet Thomas Cromwell had anticipated that, as well; he had convinced King Henry to fan the flames of controversy by issuing no statements to the public. Instead, Cromwell had advised King Henry to work solely on the visual - as his father had done before him. He declared that it was more effective than anything else because words were shallow; they could just as easily be falsehoods as truth, but visual was almost impossible to falsify. King Henry realized that his newest Chancellor was correct; people would draw their judgments and conclusions from what they see infinitely more than any words or statements that they hear.

The public was invited to the marriage ceremony and coronation for their newest Queen, a stunning change that many had not predicted. Almost everyone, including the Court, had believed that King Henry's marriage would be a private affair - or perhaps a secret event for several courtiers whispered that Marquess Anne Boleyn was already pregnant with the King's child. The ceremony was scheduled to last all day and deep into the night; the celebrations were planned for an entire week. Pageants and recitals were slated while the harpers would harp, the minstrels would sing, and the bells would ring. The festive spirit of the public was fanned by the appearance of a fountain that flowed with an endless supply of red wine; its twin fountain flowed with an endless supply of white wine - just as the Tudor rose! The cooks, too, were instructed to indulge in their fervent imaginations in promoting their finest delicacies. For those who were old enough to remember, it was reminiscent of Prince Arthur's wedding to Princess Catherine decades ago yet it surpassed in every way.

Since the former Queen Catherine's abdication in light of the weight of her lies, the interior of Westminster Abbey had been redesigned and the hard work by all of the men was recognized; it was magnificent. The lady chapel that King Henry's father had commissioned was more brilliant than ever before; it was decked in royal colors and the noble Tudor Rose was everywhere. The great warrior King Henry V's chantry chapel glowed with grand, ancient, radiant splendor. Many whispered that the great conqueror of France blessed the new marriage, then; it helped sway the public's mind knowing that their once-glorious King gave consent to King Henry's marriage to Marquess Anne Boleyn. A raised walkway drew the attention of the awed crowd; it was where their majestic King with St. Edward's Crown resting on his head stood in white satin. Next to him was the Marquess Anne Boleyn and all of the rumors about her appearance were proven false; she looked beautiful, regal, and clearly did not possess a sixth finger on either of her dainty hands. Although, only their benevolent and handsome King Henry would ever know if she possessed any moles on her body.

The Ambassadors for both France and Spain sat at the front next to the Duke of Suffolk and his wife the French Queen. Next to them sat Princess Mary and she and her aunt continuously spoke with one another in low tones. On the other side sat the King's Chancellor Thomas Cromwell, the Duke and Duchess of Norfolk, the Earl of Wiltshire, his son the Viscount of Rochford, and his daughter the Lady Mary. The Archbishop stood next to the priest on the raised walkway; he would crown Marquess Anne Boleyn as Queen Anne Boleyn after the priest married her to King Henry. The Abbey was loud but when the priest raised his hands, the innumerable crowd quieted, eyes eager to see something most only see once in their lifetime. The priest opened his mouth but no words came when a harried messenger burst into the Abbey; his skin was flushed and eyes wide as he panted for breath. Whispers from everyone in the crowd started at the sudden appearance and stoppage of events.

"STOP!" The messenger cried out and went to step forward but the Duke of Suffolk appeared and grabbed him harshly by the arm. They exchanged inaudible words and the Duke paled, looking at King Henry fearfully; it caused more whispers. He reluctantly led the messenger to where King Henry, Marquess Anne Boleyn, the priest, and Archbishop stood with different emotions. The King looked furious while the Marquess looked anxious. Both the Archbishop and the priest were confused.

When the Duke spoke, his words were heard by all. "Your Majesty, this man carries a Papal Bull with haste. He is adamant that everyone hears the contents before the ceremony."

King Henry frowned; his eyes roiled with displeasure. "What does it say, messenger?"

The messenger gathered himself and unfurled the Papal Bull. "It says, Your Majesty:

 _King Henry of England, eighth of that name,_

 _As St. Peter's heir, endowed with the wisdom of God as His living presence on Earth, I am forced to act. I condemn your actions in choosing to marry Anne Boleyn. 'Tis a marriage against the laws of both God and man, and a blot against God's order and teachings. Any children borne from such an unholy, despicable union will be forever tainted with the stench of illegitimacy, unable to inherit your grand titles and power. You will not marry this whore, or you will be excommunicated from God's Church, from Rome itself. The Vicar of Christ has spoken. The Papacy rejects the marriage of King Henry of England to Anne Boleyn. Under threat of excommunication, you will cease from your efforts to marry your whore and return to your rightful wife and Queen, Catherine Trastámara._

 _Pope Clement VII."_

The crowd was stunned in silence; nobody spoke, eyes staring fearfully at their beloved King and the Marquess whom he chose to marry and elevate to the Queen of England. The Marquess was shaking; her face was pale and eyes were wide while her arms were wrapped around her stomach in a protective gesture, cradling it almost hysterically. After a moment, the Archbishop departed silently and following him was the priest; nobody spoke as they left.

All eyes turned to the King and he was still - and that's when it was felt. The sudden rage emanating from him clouded the air; it was thick and tangible, suffocating. His brilliant eyes darkened into the blackest storm clouds and he stomped towards the messenger, each footstep booming like thunder itself. The messenger immediately fell to his knees and pleaded for mercy. The Duke of Suffolk, who looked shaken by the Papal Bull's words, held the messenger in place as their handsome and furious King approached.

"Mercy!" The messenger cried out hysterically; tears spilled out of his bulging eyes. "I beg you, Your Majesty! _Mercy!"_

The King loomed over the messenger and everyone was reminded of how tall he was; his eyes were black but he didn't roar and scream as people had anticipated. "You are not with whom my indignation lies, messenger." The King held out his hand and the messenger shakily stood to his feet; he was still much shorter than their King. "Give me the Papal Bull."

"Of- of course," the messenger stuttered and his shaking hand held out the Papal Bull and the King immediately snatched it with great speed - a foreboding omen.

"Your Grace," the King addressed the Duke of Suffolk, whom many knew to be his greatest friend. "Guide this messenger to the fountains of wine. He is in need of it."

The Duke of Suffolk bowed his head and led the terrified messenger away. The King stared at the Papal Bull; his features contorted into something vicious. The French Queen stared at Marquess Anne Boleyn sympathetically and it was a change from earlier; something had shifted inside the King's sister. With astonished eyes, everyone watched as their great King tore the Papal Bull in half and dropped the two pieces; they fluttered to the ground silently but the impact was that of an explosion.

The King looked stoically at Marquess Anne Boleyn and held out his hand; she looked shaken and everyone felt sympathy and righteous anger for her. But to everyone's surprise, she suddenly stood taller and her head was held high; she looked like a true Queen. She took King Henry's hand and he led them out of the Abbey gracefully albeit the air of suffocating fury and dark resentment still soaked through the souls of all present; it lingered as a tangible shadow.

When they left, the whispers began:

"What will happen now?"

"That poor girl… She did not deserve that; she is no whore. She looked lovely, chaste, and kind; she looked a true Queen."

"The Pope has no right to do that!"

"What are you saying? The Pope is the heir to St. Peter, the Vicar of Christ!"

"Queen Cath- I mean the Dowager Princess of Wales entered the nunnery because of the weight of her lies! She was no virgin and that is why our good King Henry has no son to his name save for his bastard, Fitzroy."

"... But the Pope- "

"Is under the control of that bastard, the Emperor. It all makes sense. He is acting in the interests of himself instead of what is best for England! They say that he wishes to keep King Henry from marrying Marquess Anne Boleyn - who should now be Queen Anne - and having legitimate sons so that he can rule England through Princess Mary."

"The Spanish Ambassador! He's _here!_ He works for that bastard, the Emperor!"

"That deceitful _Spaniard!"_

"Let's get him!"

"... Where is he?"

"Both Ambassadors are _gone!_ So, too, are Princess Mary, the Duke of Suffolk and French Queen, the King's Chancellor, and the family of Marquess Anne Boleyn."

XxXxXxXxXxX

 _September 1529_

Cromwell desperately tried to rid himself of his sudden tenseness but it refused to leave him - a bodily impulse, he reckoned. He stood uncomfortably to the side with his eyes averted as King Henry raged and annihilated the room; holes littered the wall and priceless vases and art were broken and torn asunder. Chairs were smashed against the walls and tables were overturned; deep roars of fury tore past the King's snarling lips and the sound filled Cromwell with trepidation.

Anne Boleyn stood near him, eyes vacant; her arms had returned to their place over her stomach and it furthered Cromwell's suspicions. She looked lost, devastated, anguished; her eyes, in spite of their vacant glaze, were welled with tears. The stunning turn of events, events that Cromwell had never anticipated even though he should have - _he must be better!_ \- had shocked everyone. The large masses of crowds for the wedding were enraged and Cromwell did briefly wonder if he would be forced to escort the King and Marquess to the Tower for protection if the crowds' rage didn't abate. It did relieve him, though, that their reaction was anger - at least most of them were angry. It meant that they, too, felt disillusioned with the Pope and Papacy. If that meant that their realization of how corrupt the Papacy was through the Emperor's undoubted influence, then it didn't matter.

England as a whole was humiliated and nothing sparked change like humiliation. Because of the Pope's untimely and shameful actions, Cromwell anticipated that England would be on the path to the true religion that much faster. Although, his joy at such a realization was nothing compared to his dread; he knew the potential dangers that could appear. Such a quick, rapid change would breed conflict and he knew that England's only allies would be those of whom, too, believed the true religion - which were few in Christendom's leading powers - and potentially King Francis depending on how much the King of France wished to spite the Emperor. He held hope that France would ally with England, though, because the French Ambassador had immediately expressed his disdain and outrage; it meant that King Francis might feel the same. The Spanish Ambassador, on the other hand, had looked delighted by the Papal Bull and the words therein. Cromwell already knew that Eustace Chapuys was a zealous man, and the way how the Ambassador's lips had curved at the messenger's words as he read the Papal Bull confirmed it.

Both the Emperor and Pope would raise their armies to annihilate England, and with the verification that the Emperor was controlling the Pope, who was too cowardly to refuse, it meant that England might be able to convince other Christendom powers other than France to ally with them; it would be an attempt to save Rome from the Emperor's power, to save the Holy See from a tyrant and England, and more specifically, King Henry could use that as the finely-edged, steely sword to strike back at the Emperor.

"That fucking large-chinned _serpent!"_ King Henry bellowed and smashed his foot into one of the fallen tables; it exploded into deadly splinters. "That _coward!_ Clement is a disgrace, a _squander_ of human flesh!" The King finally turned his gaze to look at Cromwell and he was deeply unsettled to see His Majesty's eyes were black; they seemed to suck in all sources of light. "Those two have ruined everything, the conniving _bastards!_ They will pay! By God as my witness, they will face their reckoning!"

Cromwell wet his dry lips, "Your Majesty, what… what are your wishes?"

"For God to smite both Clement and the Emperor at this very moment!"

"Henry, _please,_ " Anne Boleyn croaked and Cromwell, without thinking, gripped her shoulder, fearful that she might collapse. "Stop it," she wavered and the King darted forward and pulled her into his arms tightly; she sagged in relief and sorrow.

"Oh, Anne, my darling Anne." King Henry's eyes closed and Cromwell averted his eyes; he felt awkward all of a sudden. "I am so sorry. 'Twas never in my thoughts, these events."

"What will we do?" Anne Boleyn's anguished words caused him to look back at them; her hands clawed into the King's back desperately. "Oh, Henry, _how_ …?"

King Henry suddenly stared at Cromwell with fiery intensity. "Did you do as I asked?"

"Of course, Your Majesty."

"Good. We need to be married lawfully in haste," the King sighed heavily and some of his overwhelming fury seemed to dissipate. "She is pregnant; 'tis one of the reasons why we wanted the wedding so quickly."

Cromwell's eyes closed as his thoughts were confirmed. "I had my suspicions, Your Majesty, but never wanted to voice them."

"Rightly so."

"What do you wish me to do?"

"Secure England's future. My son must be legitimate, Mr. Cromwell." King Henry's eyes sparked and crackled; they were on fire. "Do not fail me. I will marry Anne and do not care who I anger."

"And… about the Pope's ruling, Your Majesty?"

"Ignore Clement's cowardly act. Do whatever you must."

"Of course," he hesitated. "And the Emperor?"

"Fuck the Emperor; he has interfered in my affairs for the last time."

"I will work tirelessly to see this resolved, Your Majesty," he swore. "By the time of your son's birth, you will be rightfully married and your son will be legitimate."

The King raised his chin; his eyes looked into Cromwell's soul. "I will hold you to that promise, Mr. Cromwell."

XxXxXxXxXxX

 **All right, that's it for this one, everyone. I hope that you all enjoyed it and please leave a review, whether or positive or negative. It really helps out with letting me know what's working and what isn't.**

 ****Charles Brandon and his wife Queen Mary Tudor of France talk about Anne Boleyn and the upcoming marriage. In history - and the TV show, too - Mary Tudor Duchess of Suffolk hated Anne Boleyn because of her long friendship with Catherine of Aragon, but I was always interested in the similarities between her marriage with Charles Brandon and Henry's marriage/love affair with Anne Boleyn. Mary risked everything by marrying Suffolk; she infuriated her brother, going against the word of an anointed King of Christendom, Henry VIII - and Henry VIII wasn't really known for his understanding and sympathy. Frankly, by what we all know of Henry VIII, it's astonishing that both Mary and Charles Brandon came out of the ordeal relatively unscathed. They remained in the King's love for the rest of their lives and only had to pay a fine - although, it was a big fine. (Frankly, I do believe that Charles Brandon and Mary Tudor had a good marriage - not like how the show interpreted it - and that his wedding to his ward, Catherine Willoughby so soon after Mary's death was financially motivated instead of romantically because Henry VIII wouldn't excuse the debt that his best friend owed him.) Anyway, I wanted Charles Brandon, who has had a change of heart in this story, to open his wife's eyes a little bit by provoking the notion of how they themselves married for love, and how Henry is kind of doing the same.**

 ****Henry and his daughter, Mary talk and Chapuys appears at the end. If you felt that Henry was too harsh on Mary, well, that would line up with his personality, wouldn't it? In history, he was quite cruel to both his daughters for their mother's actions - although Mary was stubborn, too, just as her parents before her. Yes, the bit about Pope Clement VII hinting that he would be willing to issue a dispensation for Henry Fitzroy to marry his half-sister, Mary if Henry VIII stopped his attempts to seek an annulment for his marriage to Catherine of Aragon is true. And yes, Anne is already pregnant in this; it's the same as how it happened in real-life history but several years earlier. (Remember, when Henry VIII married Anne Boleyn in 1533, she was already pregnant with Elizabeth Tudor.)**

 ****All right, I know that I took a lot of liberties with the whole Holy Roman Emperor and Pope Clement scene but… it's fiction, so it could technically happen. From what I know, there has never been any indication that Charles V had motivations to actually rule through the Pope, although it was true that he wanted to dominate the Church. (Correct me if I'm wrong, please!) I really wanted to get into the mindset of Rome during this time after the Sack in 1527. I don't think that people truly understand how terrible it was. Before the Sack, the population of Rome was over 55,000 but after the Sack, the population dropped to under 10,000. That's over 45,000 people who died because of or during the Sack and frankly, it's a miracle that Pope Clement VII escaped; his Swiss Guard did their job. Yes, the League of Cognac wasn't actually vanquished until 1530, but as I said, I'm taking some liberties. It was defeated only a year earlier.**

 ****Henry and Anne's wedding, along with Anne's coronation as Queen is about to happen but is interrupted. First off, yes, I did base it heavily on the wedding between Prince Arthur Tudor and Catherine of Aragon in 1501. Because I'm such a dramatic, I chose for the messenger with the Papal Bull to arrive right before the actual ceremony begins, but the festivities have been on-going for hours. Of course, the reactions are what you would expect, and Henry is enraged but keeps his cool not to explode in front of his people.**

 ****Cromwell is there when Henry does explode and discovers that Anne is pregnant. Henry then orders Cromwell to do what he must to secure a legitimate marriage and son for him.**

 **That's it. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask them. I'd be more than willing to answer them. Please leave a review to tell me what you thought about it because it would help me out.**

 _ **Stay Safe  
**_ **ButtonPusher**


	4. Chapter 3

**Thanks for the reviews, everyone! It makes my day every time I see a new one.**

 **Sorry for the long wait, but this one was a demanding chapter. I hope that it pleases.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own** _ **The Tudors**_ **TV show or any of the characters. I guess that history technically owns them, but you know how it goes.**

XxXxXxXxXxX

 _October 1529_

A wave of darkness, save for the thin streams of light from the candle that he held, covered Eustace Chapuys, concealing his presence from those who would kill him if they caught sight of him, regardless of whom his Master was. It was not popular to be a Spaniard during these times; the numerous death threats had shown him that. There had even been attempts on his life. When he had demanded an apology from King Henry, the King laid his large hands on him and threw him out of the privy chambers; he had landed in a sprawl before several laughing Boleyn-supporters.

It was an insult that he refused to let pass.

Things had not gone as he had anticipated - and if he were presumptuous enough, he would boldly think that his Master was of the same mindset as himself. Chapuys had thought that after the Pope's Papal Bull decree that King Henry must return to Queen Catherine, things in England would return to normal - as they should. But the opposite had occurred - and it was unthinkable, unacceptable. King Henry and the Boleyn whore had locked themselves away in the Tower, and rumors said that they were concocting a strategy to break away from Rome - and some even whispered that the Whore was already pregnant with the King's child; it was why she has not been sighted since. They said that the King was so besotted with the Whore that he would annihilate Papal supremacy and create a new religion based heavily on Lutheranism.

The new Lord Chancellor had begun conducting secret meetings with some of the most powerful men in the realm, including the Dukes of Suffolk and Norfolk and Earl of Wiltshire - all firm supporters of the Whore. Chapuys had tried to decipher what the meetings were about but every discovery left him full of outrage and dread. That was not all. The Holy Maid had famously declared that if King Henry wed the Boleyn whore, he would die a villain's death and to his horror, Elizabeth Barton was attacked by several disillusioned men after the ceremonies were canceled by His Holiness' just decree. Some dare say, like Chapuys himself, that these men were actually the Chancellor's spies and that the King had ordered Barton's death, but she had narrowly escaped because of God's intervention.

It was egregious.

And it became worse. Since the marriage and coronation that did not happen, Princess Mary was quiet - too quiet. He had thought that she would have been elated - as she should be! The Emperor had worked solely in her interests so that she would be the only heir of King Henry; she would be Queen and through a hopeful marriage to Prince Felipe, the magnificent Hapsburg line would live in the glory of another great country of Christendom. He needed Princess Mary to be receptive and willing for his Master's plans; he needed more time to speak with her, but unfortunately, King Henry had barred him access from speaking to Princess Mary and visiting Queen Catherine in the accursed nunnery since the Pope's Papal Bull.

He could still remember the Chancellor's words when he had requested access to speak to King Henry about his need to speak with Princess Mary and Queen Catherine: _'Do you know what His Majesty would request, Ambassador? He would request that the Emperor cease his wanton actions and order the Pope to allow his lawful marriage to the Marquess of Pembroke. Would that request be accepted by your Master? No, it would not, so your request will never be accepted, Ambassador, for King Henry has only one thought of you and your Master: scheming Spaniards.'_

Chapuys' footsteps were light, soundless as he glided across the stone stealthily; he hid in the shadows as his eyes darted, deciphering positions of concealment around him. He could not be caught, especially by the Chancellor's spies; he held no doubt that with England's growing humiliation and resentment for children of Spain, he would be killed gruesomely. King Henry would probably reward his murderers.

Another source of light pierced through the jaded, murky darkness and Chapuys froze; he crouched down and hid his candle behind his cloak, ignoring the almost unbearable heat. When he saw who it was, he swiftly released his flame back into the open and stood to his feet.

"Mr. More," he inclined his head. "I feared that you would not hold your word."

Thomas More frowned, "My word is part of my integrity, Ambassador. To not hold it is unthinkable."

"Yet I have heard that you gave your word to King Henry that you would not act against him. Your friendship, while fractured, is not splintered."

"I never said that. Friendship with any King is unpredictable; it is a falsehood, for I would not call what Henry and I share a friendship. I was a mentor, a teacher - quite like Wolsey. Friendships should not be arduous or conflict-creating… Henry is like a lion. You can tousle his great mane and pull at his ears but the entire time, you can think of nothing else but those deadly claws that can effortlessly cleave you head from shoulders. Ultimately, I would compare it to Jacob wrestling with the angel."

"You never know what the fight is about," he understood; his Master sometimes yelled at him for reasons of which he was unaware.

"Yes. Just as with Cain and Abel, the reason behind the conflict is elusive. Henry has been a good man for many years. When he ascended the throne, it was a time of great joy, for it was the end of the dark times from the reign of his wintry miser father; he had a munificent disposition, but he has changed the company he keeps. Brandon has never been anything more than a sycophant. Now I foresee the dark times returning but even bleaker. I believe it to be because of Anne Boleyn, the Lord Chancellor, and this heathen religion, Lutheranism that is spreading quicker than fire."

"Your King is being led astray by a woman's sleights; many great men were. Adam was taken by one and Solomon by many such - and Samson likewise. Delilah dealt him his doom, pilfering his strength and sight. The noble David was thus blinded by Bathsheba and suffered for it; no man is exempt from a woman's tricks."

"I have sensed the same. Perhaps the fate of Anne Boleyn will be the same as Lot's wife, or more accurately, Jezebel's."

"How right you are; you are a man of truth, Mr. More."

"I will do what I must to keep control of Rome in England; my heart and soul belong to the Papacy. They always have - as everyone's should… I have a pressing need to ask, Ambassador: Why did your Master's troops plunder the Sacred City?"

Chapuys shook his head with a sigh. "Those were unfortunate circumstances."

"Indeed. Henry has continually expressed disdain for the Emperor ever since; he has called him a whoreson."

"A _whoreson?"_ Chapuys felt shocked even though he knew that King Henry has acted nothing but rudely to his Master. "They were terrible events orchestrated by mutinous troops who had yet to be paid; they acted rashly and wickedly. My Master was furious, humiliated before he understood the truth. God wants him to cleanse Christendom of the heretics infecting our glorious kingdoms. His Holiness had failed in his duty to preserve Christianity; he allowed the spread of Lutheranism and the Turks to gain ground. It took a drastic measure for His Holiness to understand his failure and know his replacement - my Master, the Holy Roman Emperor."

"It does seem that God looks on your Master fondly."

"And what of the rumors that King Henry is going to break away from Rome and follow that infidel, Luther?"

Thomas More's lips thinned, "Luther is _excrement;_ his mouth is the anus of the world. I have read his works and spit on them when finished; it sears my eyes with its sacrilegious words."

Chapuys smiled, "We are of similar contentions, Mr. More. I believe that, truly, I have found a new friend."

"By God's grace, we have found each other."

"And the Chancellor?"

"He was Wolsey's man; the Cardinal often spoke of him with prideful respect. He replaced me as Chancellor; the King was furious that I spoke against Anne Boleyn and the marriage."

"And your opinion of your replacement? I have heard… _rumors._ "

"I would not want to be in that serpent's company. The rumors are true. He is a man of low morals; he would order his own mother's death for the right expenditure, I am certain. I believe that he would even ally with the _Sultan_ if he thought that it would benefit him."

Shuddering, Chapuys quickly signed a cross across his head, lips, and chest. "A depraved man who now has your King's ear."

"I fear what he will whisper in the King's ear. Henry is truly furious right now."

"They say your King is so furious that if King Francois does not ally with him against my Master, he will renew his ancestral claims upon the French lands that belonged to his forebears."

" _What?_ You mean…?"

"Normandy, Aquitaine, Pointers, Brittany, Gascony, Anjou, Nantes, and Maine. King Henry will seek to reclaim them all and engage in holy war against King Francois if France does not ally with England. That is what the whispered rumors tell."

"By Judas' _betrayal,_ " Thomas More brought his fingers to wipe away the sudden moisture in the corners of his mouth. "This is… frightening. Diplomacy is the answer to this situation, never war."

"We need help, Mr. More."

"Bishop Fisher will help us; he is intelligent and full of God."

"He has begun writing against your King, I heard."

"Yes. Archbishop Warham has expressed his distaste, as well, particularly with the Lord Chancellor. He calls him a knave."

"Appropriate."

"I agree. I have begun speaking with the Courtenays and Poles - all of the old Plantagenets." More's words were soft, "They, too, are outraged by what is happening. Although they are ambitious fools, particularly Lady Salisbury, they are the only ones who have verbally exclaimed horror at what is happening of the nobility of whom I am aware."

"What have you talked about?"

"They have a desire to return England to what it once was. Lady Salisbury offered any of her sons to wed Princess Mary to secure the throne; she was once Princess Mary's governess."

"Reginald Pole, the exiled one cannot be wed to anyone; he is a _priest._ "

Thomas More inclined his head, "He has offices in the Church, but he has yet to be ordained."

"So he can potentially marry," he nodded in understanding. "His blood has transformed him into a dangerous man; he is of the Plantagenet line from what I understand, yes?"

"Yes. He is the grandson of the Duke of Clarence, brother of King Edward; he is the great-grandson of the Kingmaker. All of the Poles are descended from Clarence and the Kingmaker. Montague offered to marry Princess Mary and Margaret Pole's other two sons, the already-mentioned Reginald and Geoffrey are, too, available. Exeter, descended from King Edward just as Henry, hinted that his wife has been ill since the birth of his son two years ago; her time is short, he says. He would potentially marry Princess Mary, as well."

"No Plantagenet is acceptable. Princess Mary is to wed a man of my Master's choosing, preferably his heir, Prince Felipe."

"You sound confident, Ambassador. Has Henry already agreed to a match?"

Chapuys' face darkened, "No. He has refused to contemplate it. I believe that he will never agree even though he should. My Master is very accommodating and benevolent. Anyone else would assassinate your King for his intolerable insults to my Master. He is the defender of Christendom from the Turks; this week I received a message that said the Turks were near Vienna, leaving death and destruction behind them. By now, the heathens are undoubtedly laying siege to the city. My Master's men will be the sole force to push them back."

" _Vienna?"_ Thomas More gasped, face pale. "Your Master has been gifted by God. I will pray heartily for his strength and courage, the same for his men."

"You are a good man, Mr. More. I heard that the Holy Maid visited you before her attack."

"She did, and I was impressed by her fervor; she declared to me that Princess Mary would become Queen of England."

"God willing, she will," he swore. "My Master will see it become reality. Did the Holy Maid mention anything else?"

"She, too, has been communicating with the Poles and Exeter. Lady Salisbury claimed she said that her son will be King of England. I know not to believe her; she is ambitious and could be lying. The Holy maid did not mention anything about Pole becoming King; she seems to favor Exeter."

"Interesting."

"It is an utmost shame what happened to her," Thomas More shook his head, hair bristling in the air. "I wish to claim that I was surprised but I was not - am not."

"She was attacked, nearly killed. They say that it was a riot… but I disagree. I believe that it was the Chancellor's spies. Only one man could order the Chancellor- "

"I am certain that Henry is… very stressed right now."

"Yet that does not change the heresy that your King is beginning to believe."

"Henry has been a beloved and great King, but I now fear the path that he is treading. It is because of Anne Boleyn; she is the center of this. The Chancellor is, as well."

"The _Whore,_ " he whispered so as not to be potentially overheard, but his intensity was in no way diminished. "We must remove her."

"Indeed. She is a heretic; she must be burned… There is a prophecy that a Queen of England will be burned and Anne Boleyn will be the one to fulfill it; she is a _Lutheran_."

"She is not a Queen. His Holiness decreed it."

"I pray she never will be, lest Lutheranism spreads even further. We must prevent that."

"I agree, my friend, but we would first need to kidnap her from the impenetrable Tower. That is too public, complex. We need something quick."

Thomas More's eyes were indecipherable. "You want to… assassinate her?"

"This witch has corrupted your King, enchanting him to the point in which he cares not if he is cast out of Christendom, damned for eternity; she is _the catalyst_ for England's heresy. Kill her, everything will return to normal. King Henry will then be free from her charms and he will see the truth. He would not regret it, for my Master is the most benevolent of Princes."

"As you said, he is Christendom's great defender."

"I believe that I know of someone who can deliver the return of Papal Authority in England by killing the Whore."

Thomas More looked away, "Part of me wishes that the Papal Bull had never been issued. Then Henry would have certainly remained with Rome."

"Or maybe not," he smoothly corrected. "Boleyn's hold on him is clearly strong; she is just as Delilah and _Jezebel_ \- a diabolical amalgamation. Have you not seen it?"

"I have… Of whom were you thinking?"

Chapuys smiled.

XxXxXxXxXxX

 _October 1529_

"I believe that you have already considered the possibility, Your Majesty," the voice of Cromwell was steady, yet subtle hints of trepidation were audible. "With the Pope and Emperor's unforgiving interference, it was merely a matter of time."

Anne's eyes were hard as she held her arms around their soon-to-be-here son. "They have gone too far. Cromwell has looked and there is no one better than Cromwell. I have heard you say that."

Henry turned away and felt the weariness of the inevitable; it was confirmed by his burdened soul. He was old, now; no matter how much he kept his body in shape, he was not the King who he used to be when he took the throne. Although he envisioned living for decades more as his Uncle Arthur, he needed his true heir immediately; nothing was more important. The Papacy had failed him and Anne and Cromwell had shown him the truth - but it didn't mean that it was easy. For his entire life, ever since he could remember, he had followed the Papacy - as his father had done before him. It was all that he was taught: to bow before Rome, even as King.

"Begin the process," he commanded, voice drifting strangely; he almost didn't recognize it. "I need my true heir."

"May I speak bluntly, Your Majesty?" Cromwell inquired hesitantly.

"I wish that someone would."

"This path could lead to war- "

"I must have my _son!"_ Henry whirled around, "If a King cannot provide stability to his realm by siring a healthy son, then it matters not what else he accomplishes!"

Cromwell nodded serenely, "This will not be easy."

"Do I retain you for what is _easy?_ Do you think that I have raised you to _Lord Chancellor_ for the charm of your presence? No…" he locked his eyes onto Cromwell's, staring down at him. "I have seen something in you that I have seen in few during my lifetime: guile. You remind me of my father and I see some of Wolsey in you, but where the Cardinal failed, I foresee your success. God has brought you to me. I knew who would tirelessly see my will done - I always do. So you know my will, Mr. Cromwell. _Execute it._ "

"I will, Your Majesty, but this will take time. You must show that you ignore the Pope's Papal Bull and will marry whom you please. The message must be understood."

"Then how can this process be hastened?"

Cromwell glanced at Anne before returning his eyes to Henry's. "Diligence and money."

"How are we to come by those?" Anne demanded, her striking lovely face tense; her dark mystifying eyes were furious. "The people are angry, and we are _humiliated!_ The Pope declared me a whore - and _all of Christendom_ heard it! They go so far as to call me the Whore of Christendom; they compare me to _Jezebel!"_

Henry's rage was provoked, "Our fates will not be of them; dogs will not tear our flesh to bits and my heirs through you will survive. Anyone who dares to believe such slander will be imprisoned in the Tower - at the _lowest_ level."

"To them, I am Jezebel, you are King Ahab, and Cromwell is the Baal priests," her words were bitter and her petite fists clenched.

"We are _not,_ " he tried to contain his temper; it wasn't her at whom he was furious. "You are none of those things; they will regret their words and impure thoughts. I will force them to."

Anne stared at him, eyes burning with chaotic emotions; she looked saddened. "Will they? I am a woman, the instrument by which sin entered the world; Eve plucked that accursed apple and doomed us all. In their eyes, I am Lucifer's gateway, the unholy entrance through which he attacks pious men."

"They are but priests with limited knowledge and intelligence," Cromwell said smoothly, tempering Henry's rage. "They try to create a name for themselves by poisoning the image of Lady Anne."

"They are not the only ones," she murmured darkly. "I know who it is who should be thrown out of a palace's window and torn to shreds by dogs: the Pope and Emperor. They caused our humiliation, our _shame_. We alone are forced to bear it."

"Not for long," he grabbed her hands and brought them to his lips. "We will be married and our son will be legitimate; he will be _mighty._ He will reign the golden age and all will kneel at his feet, including the Pope and the next Emperor after _Carlos._ "

"Yes," she leaned into him, a brief contact of comfort. "He will be glorious and his reign more so. We are in danger of losing that because of the Pope, who has dared command you, the King of England. That is _unacceptable._ You have more royal blood than that… that _swine!"_

"You are right," he hissed; he saw the truth. "The Papacy is full of fraudulent order - and Clement is at the top. My eyes have never been clearer; my sight is a gift from God and I see His displeasure with the Papacy. It is time to break away. About my message being understood: What would you suggest, Mr. Cromwell?"

"I believe that it would behoove Your Majesty to disband the monasteries, abbeys, and covenants through England. You would do much good with the money that flows from them to Rome each year. This would appoint you the richest man in Christendom, the richest King that England has ever had. I would propose that these funds be utilized to strengthen England for an inevitable invasion. These actions would prompt your excommunication from Rome but after that, you will create your own Church with you as the spiritual head, as is your rightful position, and marry whomever you desire. This, too, would render any power held by Bishop Fisher or any other followers of Rome worthless. You will decide who is the Archbishop of Canterbury and any other positions you seek to fill. But first, the monasteries, abbeys, and covenants must be disbanded and appropriated by you, Your Majesty."

Henry nodded greedily, "Of course. Have you personal experiences with the monasteries?"

"Yes. It was a forthcoming experience and it stimulated the dissent that I feel."

"You must disband these corrupt institutions for they breed nothing but _treason._ " Anne stared at him steadily, intently; she had never looked so serious. "It would show the Pope and Emperor that you will never again bow to Rome, for that is but an inversion of God's command. It will show that you do not take kindly to their damned interference. They must learn their place at your feet!"

"All of that money," he trailed off, imagining how much stronger he could make his kingdom with those riches. "Begin discussing it with my lawyers and to whomever you need, Mr. Cromwell. Handle everything. Start immediately. You have proven worthy. Do whatever you must; you have my blessing. I trust in your discretion and skill."

Cromwell hesitated, "And the Dowager Princess of Wales, Your Majesty?"

Henry paused; he had not thought of Catherine for so long. "Her nunnery will remain; she saw reason and I will be benevolent because of it."

"What will you do with the money, Henry? Besides, of course, what Cromwell suggested?" Anne peered at him, "We could ease the people's anger by opening new places of study and publishing Tyndale's Bible - all will know the word of God."

"Thomas told me that he had identified over three-thousand errors in Tyndale's gospel; he said that it was more blasphemous than the Turks' holy book."

"That sounds like Thomas More," Cromwell shook his head. "His beliefs are blinding him, Your Majesty; he sees only what he wishes to and that is horrid mistranslation."

Henry's eyes closed and he quelled the impulse to obliterate the suggestion about Tyndale's Bible. "There is already a Bible, my love."

"That only those in religious life can read," she stated passionately; her eyes connected briefly to Cromwell's. "Many Englishmen cannot have access to the Bible- "

"They attend Mass; they can seek Confession."

"Tyndale's Bible provides an opening in the soul. It offers all the ability to read the Word of God. The Papacy has done _nothing_ for you, Henry, for our son. They seek our destruction."

Cromwell lifted his head, "This would be another way in which Your Majesty shows the Pope and Emperor that you cannot forgive. You would assert your power as a true King as the head of your realm."

"We must show the people that they are in our thoughts." Anne beseeched him; her eyes were frothy. "We cannot only provide the visual of amassing more power for ourselves. We _must_ be better than the Emperor."

"You are right," he murmured. "Rome is but a vassal for the Emperor. Clement has shown his allegiance and thoughts. I will now show mine."

"You will open new places of study and publish Tyndale's Bible?" Anne looked fulfilled; some of her anger eased from her beautiful face. "Your Majesty is wiser than Solomon."

Henry suddenly remembered something that his father had said to him many years ago: _'The wise King will never be the most popular King. People know not what they want; they are fickle and prone to judge poorly. It is up to you to decide. 'Tis from where the power of Kings is derived under God's supremacy. All Kings are strong but too few are wise. My dynasty must bloom; the Tudor Rose must flourish through your sons. Our House will rise past France and the united Castile and Aragon crowns. Upon you rests all of my aspirations; you will be the King that I cannot.'_ He had reached this point of gaining more prestige and power because he had indulged in his father's traits; he swore to continue to do so.

"Only at first, Your Majesty," Cromwell boldly cut in - and Henry respected it. "Immediately, my suggestion is that you use this extra expenditure to begin crafting yourself as a leader of a new Church - one that belongs solely to you. Now is the time to act. The people are furious and confused. Act while they feel this way. For those few who do not accept your rightful, spiritual position, you can convince them to accept it with an offering. Men are easily persuaded by coinage, Your Majesty. I have seen it many times, even those who would oppose you in Parliament. After the fury of the Pope and Emperor placates, particularly when you strengthen England's defenses, armies, and armada, then you can use the money in other ways, such as what the Lady Boleyn proposed. You will be the sole and supreme head of your kingdom."

"You have been a gift from God, Mr. Cromwell. Your cleverness never ceases to impress me." Henry grasped the man's shoulder in promise. "I have made you. Everything that you are, everything that you have will come from _me_."

"I am forever Your Majesty's servant." Cromwell bowed his head in respect, "Quickly, if everything falls into place, and God willing it does, you will have your heir and be married to the lovely soon-to-be Queen Anne. As the head of a new Church, you will dictate laws of all spiritual matters. You can marry yourself to whomever. Your power will be absolute- "

Henry frowned, "Parliament?"

"Few will possess the folly to go against you, Your Majesty. They can be persuaded, as I previously suggested, with bribery."

"Some stubborn few will rebel regardless," Anne commented softly. "I believe I know who."

" _Who?"_ Henry demanded, "I will deal with these traitors right now. He who does not feel humiliation or rage, or accept my decisions is not a true Englishman!"

Anne's eyes were steady, "Archbishop Warham, Thomas More, Bishop Fisher, and that damned Imperial Ambassador. It also would not be a surprise if all of the old Plantagenets rebelled, too."

"My father was always wary of the old Plantagenets, my own cousins. I, too, have suspected that they sought my throne… but it is hard to believe that they would betray me. I have known them my entire life. Pole, I understand but _Exeter?_ He has been my friend since I was but a boy. Wolsey tried to part us once but I refused to allow it." Henry's thought to years past and that inevitably brought Catherine to mind. "If anyone is to blame for Courtenay's potential treachery, it is his _wife;_ she is fickle and weak, just like all her kind."

"There is evidence contrary to that," Anne stared at him.

"Yes… The thought of Catherine brings out the worst in me," he pulled her hand to his lips. "You are neither of those things. Forgive me."

Her expression softened, "Thank you."

"Exeter has always been loyal; he is a friend. I only foresee treachery from him because of his wife."

Cromwell nodded sagely, "Of course, Your Majesty, but this is a delicate time. As you are aware, people can be led astray during such turbulent events. I do not believe you need to worry about Archbishop Warham and Bishop Fisher; they are old and ill."

"I want them all watched, regardless. I must know who I can trust. You are correct; they should feel tired of fighting for Catherine's blood-stained lies. She willingly stepped down; they have no argument."

Anne's fists clenched, "And if the Pope - or Emperor, for that matter - elevates Warham or Bishop to Cardinal?"

Henry's mood darkened, knowing that it was a true possibility. "I will send their heads across the Channel to meet their damned hats!"

"And Thomas More?" Cromwell stared at him neutrally.

"Thomas is different; he would never…" he trailed off as he realized that, indeed, his old friend would rebel. Already, Thomas boldly declared his thoughts about his new marriage and Anne. Henry knew that he would hear reports, more than likely from Cromwell, that Thomas was writing against his new policies. Such things were treasonous and warranted death, but… Henry found it difficult to order his friend's death; they were once close, a teacher-student bond. "Thomas has disappointed me."

"And if he continues to do so?" Anne dared in challenge, "He thinks you to be a frail Prince whom he can lead by the hand but you are a _King_ who will be obeyed. You cannot have him questioning our rightful positions, and more importantly, the rightful glory of our son."

"I will find something else for Thomas, but the rest… they will be dealt with just as Elizabeth Barton will be. Anyone who speaks against you or our son will experience my wrath _intimately_."

Cromwell inclined his head. "I have received a letter from King Francois, Your Majesty, from the French Ambassador addressed to you. I have not read it, but- "

"Give it to me."

"Of course," he held out the letter and Henry grabbed it.

"I have waited for this," he murmured as he unfurled the scroll. "Now I will know if we have another enemy," he read the French words:

 _My brother, the King of England, Defender of the Faith, strongest of men, wisest of scholars,_

 _I am horrified by what has transpired to your anointed person. The Emperor's unholy actions through Pope Clement VII are unacceptable; I condemn him fiercely. Every King needs his rightful heir and the Dowager Princess of Wales failed to produce because she lived in sin, lying to you and more blasphemously, before God. The Marquess of Pembroke, I remember her well, particularly her sister, Mary, with whom I spent long nights of ardent love. I respect and endorse your decision to wed your chosen Queen that the Emperor denies you. He must be stopped and we are the only two men in the world who detest him with the same, familiar zeal. We both feel the bitter sting of public humiliation at his hands._

 _I offer an alliance, my brother, one of shared faith and vengeance against the Emperor. Together, France and England will strike back at the House of Habsburg with unshakable ferocity, invincible armies, and weathered discipline. I know of your Marquess' thoughts on the Papacy, thoughts that you may now share because of the Emperor, and I do nothing to stop them. We both want the Emperor humiliated as he has continually humiliated us, and I care not what it takes to see him shamed. When Judgment comes, I want him to be besmirched with shame! We must persevere in our hatred - and we shall!_

 _I will recognize the Marquess of Pembroke, who is no whore as was said by His Holiness, as your Queen of England and mother to your heirs, and anything else that you want from the Emperor once we defeat him. I will recognize you and England as an eternal ally and friend in spite of any potential preceding paths walked. I will offer your future heirs marriage contracts when appropriate and we will rise above the Emperor's control. In return, after we defeat the Emperor, I want all that was stolen from me returned: my claims to Naples, Milan, Flanders, and Artois, and the dependency of the duchy of Burgundy. I also want other riches and land from the Emperor but we can discuss this once our holy war is concluded - and we are the victors._

 _All I truly ask, my brother, greatest of Kings, is for your trust and hatred. We both desire for retribution against the Emperor. I will give you all of the support that you need and you will requite. Our two great kingdoms have been at war and odds with one another for centuries. It is time to move past our petty grievances and grandiose visions. It is time that we move our gaze away from each other to the sight of our common enemy: the imperial eagle. We shall divide between us many treasures when our victory comes. I eagerly await to hear your reply._

 _King Francois I of France._

Henry looked up from the letter, "Francois is our ally. He has offered an alliance against the Emperor," he stared at Anne with relieved eyes. "He will recognize you as my rightful, true Queen and endorse all of our sons and daughters. He hinted that he would hold no quarrel if I move away from the Papacy. All he wants is the humiliation of the Emperor. Never has God gifted a King such a worthy ally!"

Anne's smile was pure, "God is on our side; he will bless us."

XxXxXxXxXxX

 _October 1529_

Cromwell meticulously scanned his letter, wise eyes searching for mistakes that he was certain didn't exist. After several moments, he set it down, satisfied; it was the return letter to King Francois that the King had ordered him to compose.

A sound drew his attention and he looked up to see Thomas More at the entrance of his office, the guards keeping him from entering.

"Let him in," he called out; he secured the parchment's security, moving it away easily. "And close the door."

"Lord Chancellor," More greeted sagely, standing before him; they were alone without prying eyes.

"You should have warned me of your coming. I would have requested food and drink. I believe that I have wine- "

"Thank you, but no."

"I see," he leaned back, staring up at the still-standing Thomas More. "What can I do for you?"

"I know what you are, Lord Chancellor. I know the path on which your thoughts dwell. You are leading the King astray."

"Ahh, I was wondering when you would confront me." Cromwell leaned forward, anticipation causing his fingers to itch; he was ready for this battle. "I have yearned for this conversation."

"As have I."

"How many people did you _burn,_ Mr. More? How many innocent- "

"They were not innocent, Lord Chancellor; their souls needed saving."

"How many did you set aflame at the stake? You wielded the power of this office to great effect during your short tenure. How _many?"_

"Not enough," Thomas More stood tall; his bluntness was refreshing. "The heresy of Lutheranism is spreading faster than I imagined. His Holiness' decree has had the opposite effect. England is on the brink of eternal damnation."

Cromwell clapped his fingers together lightly in front of him, betraying his feelings on the matter. "I heard that before you burned them, you put them to the _rack_."

"To save their souls, I did. I had men whipped, burned with irons, hung by their wrists, and then finally when it was apparent whose souls could not be saved, I burned them at the stake."

"Do their screams haunt you? Have you remorse?"

"For every soul of which I could not save, my remorse outweighs the heaviest burden."

"A zealous follower of the Papacy," Cromwell murmured. "You are one of many agents of the corrupt institution."

" _Corrupt?"_ Thomas More stared at him intently; he met the stare with just as great intensity. "In just over the past decade, the Turks have captured _Jerusalem,_ Belgrade, Rhodes, much of the Mediterranean, and many of the ancient lands; they lit their fires in the great library at Buda. Constantinople has been in their control for over _seventy_ years, and the Emperor's Ambassador has revealed to me that they currently lay siege at the very gates of _Vienna._ "

"You have been speaking with the Imperial Ambassador? That is not wise with the ubiquitous loathing of Spaniards in the air."

"Only the Emperor's forces are pushing those heathens back. The Turks are the corrupt institution, Lord Chancellor. The fact that you believe the _Papacy_ is corrupt instead of the Turks shows how great of an infidel _you are._ It is heresy that you hold this office; you are leading the King away from God."

Cromwell chuckled, "The King of England is not an infidel, and neither am I. Your statement is flawed behind your own perception of reality. I agree wholeheartedly that the Turks are heathens."

"Then why would you want to facilitate another rupture in Christendom by persuading the King to cast aside the Papacy?"

"I am merely offering the King a solution to his problems caused by the Pope and Emperor. If His Majesty sees the true religion, then that is God's will."

" _Heretic!"_ More snapped but reigned himself in. "You and the Boleyn girl are leading the King down a dangerous path; it will _damn_ us all. Only the Papacy- "

"Which is under control of the Emperor." Cromwell interrupted smoothly, "You saw what happened, Mr. More, how they interfere in affairs in which they have no say. The Emperor is practically Pope, now."

"The Emperor is the sole force that is currently keeping the Turks at bay. Lucifer's armies are being pushed back because of _him._ He is the Lord's champion; His guiding hands are on him."

"Yet, he has taken power of which he holds no claim. Hypocrisy is as abundant as air."

"I know what you are, Lord Chancellor; you are for _purchase_. You would serve Christendom's great enemy if offered - the _Sultan_. Do you know the Turks' methods? They rape and pillage. They slaughter all in their path; men, women, children, it matters not. They collect the virgin girls and give those poor souls to the _Sultan._ He takes them and sires countless children through them, spreading his diabolical seed. He encourages his spawn to practice _fratricide._ "

"I have heard the stories. Those poor girls," he shook his head in remorse. "May God grant them strength and courage."

"Indeed. In spite of our shared inclinations toward the Turks, I want you to understand something."

"What?"

"You think that because you now hold this office you can scheme with heretics behind the King's back, but you are mistaken. Henry will quickly see how you have whispered tainted words in his ears and when that time comes, you will burn. I was mounting a case against you before he forced me to resign. I know about your _letters_. I know that you have begun communicating with Tyndale since Wolsey's fall and I believe that you have even communicated with that Lucifer's son, Luthor."

"Are you threatening me, Mr. More?"

"Yes…" the expression on Thomas More's face was a mixture of woe and steely resolve. "That is what I am doing."

"They say that you are the great persuader of our age… Your words have failed you this time."

"You will- "

"I allowed you your say, now you will allow me to retort." Cromwell interrupted almost lazily, "The Papacy is wrong; you are a man who has devoted his life to false teachings. The Church is besmirched with corruption; it is mired. The monasteries, abbeys, and nunneries prove this. I have seen the results."

"The monks- "

"If you ask me about the monks, again, I speak from experience, Mr. More. None of my beliefs are prejudiced; they are built on facts and experiences. I am aware that some of those foundations are respectable and dutiful but they are few. I once arrived at a monastery without warning and was met with a parade of the seven vices."

"Your eyes deceived you. The monasteries are repositories for _learning._ "

Cromwell raised a brow, undeterred. "Were any of the great scholars of this realm monks? Grocyn? Linacre? Colet? No, they were men of university."

"Of course," Thomas More shook his head in agitation. "The rumors remark that you possess a deep loathing of those in religious life."

"Wolsey kept me as inspector; my diligence impressed him. My experiences with those in religious life have been of corruption, deceit, and waste. I have witnessed monks who live like great Lords from the offerings of the poor who yearn for a blessing instead of sustenance. They take children in, indeed, but rather than educating them as promised, these poor children are instead used as servants. They are not loyal to the King, to England; they are sole servants to Rome, to the Papacy. For centuries, the Monks have compiled our history and England has accepted it, but what I have discovered is that they have _suppressed_ our true history; they write one that is instead beneficial to Rome. Generations have been falsified. Money has been stolen from England by the monasteries, abbeys, and nunneries to be dispersed into Rome to fill the coffers of the Papacy. Everything that Luthor contended was true; it is _blinding._ "

Thomas More took a step back in horror. "I was mistaken about your depravity; it is worse than I imagined."

"Have you read Marsiglio?"

"You are without shame, Lord Chancellor; you do not even hide your nature. I once read his savage postulates many years ago; they are sullied with mistranslation and lies - just as you are."

"Are they? Marsiglio rightly declared that Christ entered this world not to rule or judge, but as a _subject;_ he was subject to the state. He never sought to rule, nor did he ever pass on a command to his apostles to rule. He, too, did not sanction power of one apostle over another, one above the others."

"He _did_ \- "

"Read those scriptures about Peter _again,_ " he said brusquely. "Christ did not make _Popes._ He did not bestow the power to create laws or impose taxes, both over which the Church of Rome claim jurisdiction. It is not for your Pope to decide who is married, who can marry, and who is a bastard or legitimate."

"Over a thousand years of Church history state otherwise to these dissident claims, Lord Chancellor. Christ founded a visible Church that would reign endlessly; it was given the power to teach and discipline - look at Matthew's Book. St. Paul tells us that the Church is the pillar and foundation of truth- "

"Not the Church of Rome; it is filled with deceit." Cromwell leaned forward, "Christ did not induct his followers into power of this world, only the power of Heaven. Since that is the _truth,_ how can the Princes of Christendom obtain their power from the Bishop of Rome?"

"How far your soul will be damned," Thomas More stared at him sadly; he even glimpsed sympathy but that was only beneath the outrage. "Your path to Lucifer has been cemented. I pray that you awaken from these abhorrent beliefs. The promise of Christ to Peter endowed him- "

"With no earthly power. The basis upon which your Pope claims power is false. He is nothing more than a mere figurehead of the fictitious teachings that he preaches, Mr. More; he wields too much stolen power. This _Antichrist_ can choose who rules; he has the power to crown and un-crown God-anointed Kings and change the course of Empires."

Thomas More flinched back, horror causing his eyes to widen briefly before he composed himself. " _Blasphemer!_ His Holiness is the _Vicar of Christ,_ the descendant of St. Peter! His Holiness is the way in which we remember Christ's sacrifice!"

"Christ explicitly said how to remember him: Not through a false Pope but bread and wine, body and blood. It has become apparent how deceived and _human_ the Pope is; he has fallen prey to the Emperor. It is as obvious as your growing fury, Mr. More. How many other of your Popes have fallen prey? Now that the Emperor has the Bishop of Rome on his side, now that he himself is practically the false Pope, he is nigh unstoppable."

"Their alliance is saving Christendom from those who wish our destruction. It is God's will and we must follow it; the Bible declares it and the Bible does not lie."

"It does not, but since the Bible is divinely-inspired, it alone is the truth, not what your Pope decrees."

"The Pope is the representative of God in this _world._ If Henry had not demanded the Great Seal out of my hands, I would arrest you right now in the name of the King and more importantly,

God, Lord Chancellor."

"The only mediator between God and man is not your Pope, but Christ Himself. Your Pope is not divine, only human. How many of your Popes have fathered children, Mr. More…? I have heard stories that your Borgias Pope kept many women - and none of them virgins. They are hypocrites who fail to follow their false teachings."

"I renounce my earlier statement, for it would be a lie right now to say that I want your soul saved. You have led Henry into _sin._ That is unforgivable and you might have led him to his _death._ "

"You are speaking of the Barton girl?" Cromwell chuckled, "She seeks attention, that is all."

"She was nearly killed in an attack after His Holiness' Papal Bull."

"I heard about it."

"From your spies who orchestrated the attack, I am sure."

"The Holy Maid was probably attacked by those men because she prophesied the King's death; that is unforgivable in anyone except Barton's mind."

"Henry's prophesied death will only occur if he continues his current path, the one on which you and Anne Boleyn are leading him."

"You believe her? You are _gullible._ "

"God is working through her, _warning_ of His wrath."

Cromwell shook his head, "If the Barton girl had foretold of the King's Great Matter and Anne Boleyn's coming a season before it happened, you would have burned her at the stake and called her a _witch._ You merely believe her because it is convenient, _advantageous_."

"You put words in my mouth of which I have never thought. Henry will be smitten with holy lightning if he continues this path; the Holy Maid foresaw this. Her gift is a blessing."

"Well, if that is true - if - then he must have his son. The King needs a son; all Kings do. Fitzroy is a bastard, unable to inherit the throne in spite of his wishes. This is the first time where there is no _direct heir_ to England's throne. What if the King dies - as Barton treasonously claims? Who will sit on his mighty throne? Pole? Exeter? Princess Mary? Scotland's fifth James? Suffolk's children through the French Queen? It would be a free-for-all as rival claimants compete for His Majesty's throne. It would be a return to the _Cousins' War_ but bloodier. That is what the King's death represents; that is what the Barton girl and any who believe her endorse. It is what _you_ endorse, Mr. More. An heir must be secured of the King's body before his demise."

"You wish to speak of the death of Kings, Lord Chancellor?"

"Why not? It might open your mind. When a King dies, there has _always_ been an heir to rise to the throne. The second Richard disappeared into Pontefract Castle and either starved or was murdered."

"We both know which one it was."

"Indeed. His usurper was also his heir; the fourth Henry died of leprosy which scarred his body but he had an heir. He had many sons."

"This information is already known."

"You may learn something new. The immortal fifth Henry won Agincourt and conquered France."

"But he paid the price."

"Yes. With body, not money. He married Princess Katherine Valois and while she was a dutiful wife for their brief marriage, her father was mad. He thought that he was- "

"Composed of glass."

"The sixth Henry sprung from his parents' union but he inherited his grandfather's madness. He had a son but there were still other heirs. The fourth Edward eventually took the kingdom away from the mad Henry. When that great King died, his sons were killed, but the throne was still secured by his brother, the wicked Richard III. Then old King Henry, seventh of that name, deposed the maligned hunchback. There have always been clear claimants to the throne, but now, there are none. The claims of Exeter, Pole, Princess Mary, James V, and Suffolk's son are _weak_ and rely on women's lines."

"Henry's father relied on the same."

"Yet he won the throne, too, through conquest. The old King also married King Edward's eldest daughter and heir."

"Which provided Henry with his main claim to the throne."

"Perhaps, but Exeter is merely descended through a younger daughter of King Edward and Montague through the treasonous Duke of Clarence through his mother. The King is the embodiment of the united Houses of Lancaster and York. Only a son by Lady Anne will bring peace."

"But that son will be raised a heretic. Queen Catherine did fail to bear an heir, but she is a true follower of the Papacy." Thomas More glared at him, eyes narrowing. "Unlike the current men in power."

"Yet she failed in her primary duty. Even you cannot deny it; you just admitted it. Lady Anne is young; her mother was a _Howard._ All Howard women are renowned for their fertile beauty. Wiltshire once remarked that his wife bore him a child every year; he claimed that it detained his revenue. Their daughter undoubtedly inherited that; she will provide the King strong sons."

Thomas More's jaw ticked and he looked out the window of the Tower; he was quiet for several moments and Cromwell watched him silently before his predecessor spoke. "Do you remember Edward IV's Queen, Lord Chancellor?"

"Elizabeth Woodville."

"Do you remember the rumors about her? Her family?"

"Her mother's line were witches; she herself was," he recalled. "It was how she beguiled the King to marry her."

"What of the other rumors? They say it was the _true_ reason why King Edward married her. It was not exactly the sight of her phenomenal blonde beauty that enticed his pulse."

Cromwell leaned back, understanding. " _Melusine_. Wolsey told me the story."

"Hear it again. The Woodvilles claimed descent from the serpent-woman of freshwater; the Kings of England already do through the Counts of Anjou, but they say that King Edward wanted to double the potential for the perennial dynasty."

"And she masqueraded as a mortal Princess but when her husband saw her tail, she foretold that her children would establish a dynasty that would reign endlessly."

"Yes. It was untold power - guaranteed by Lucifer."

"Your point, Mr. More?"

"Before King Edward was married, his advisors - Warwick and others - were planning to marry him to a French Princess, but he went against their wishes and married whom he pleased to secure that eternal dynasty. Look what happened. Look who he chose - a woman under Lucifer's sway. Look who his grandson has chosen."

"But King Edward's Queen brought with her a claim to Castile's throne. An ancient one, but a claim nonetheless."

"Now you speak of the three suns: The throne of England, the throne of France, and the throne of Castile, to which all of Edward IV's legitimate descendants lay claim because she provided Castile for the Kings of England. She did bring that, yes, but what will Anne Boleyn bring with her? _Nothing_. No land, money, treaty, or claim. When Henry married Catherine, I was at the coronation. I wrote about it. The people whispered that our King was closer to securing his ancient rights with Catherine as his Queen. They said that His Majesty was King of three glorious Kingdoms - the three suns."

"They still say that, Mr. More. What Lady Anne will bring with her to the marriage is a son of the King's body."

Thomas More's eyes closed. "The rumors are true; this Jezebel is pregnant with Henry's child. A Lutheran Prince he will be; heresy will dominate this realm. You have aided the ushering-in of the _Turks._ "

Cromwell shook his head, "Our conversation has reached its end. The King has ordered you to return to your home," he grabbed the document and held the scroll out until Thomas More took it. "I would abide by his decision."

"Very well. I cannot stay longer in your company." Thomas More turned to leave.

"What will you do?"

More paused, "Write and pray."

"I advise that you do much more of the latter than the former."

"Is that a threat, Lord Chancellor?"

"Yes. I return the one you gave me," he watched as Thomas More exited without another word.

Cromwell pulled out the letter to King Francois; he would need to send it off immediately. The victory that he had just achieved would be met with resistance and he was prepared. The King had entrusted him and he would not fail as Wolsey had; he would succeed. Through him and the soon-to-be Queen, the true religion will spread rapidly - and it will be glorious!

XxXxXxXxXxX

 _October 1529_

"The heathens have been pushed back!" The messenger burst out, the Spanish words floating in the air with the weight of the crumbled walls of Jericho. "The Turks have fled Vienna!"

The Emperor's eyes closed as euphoria and triumph swept through him; he slowly opened his lids and spread his arms outward. "My stable hand has brought liberation to Christendom; peace has been secured. God is good!"

The ensemble of his subjects cheered and cried out vehement praises to the Father, some falling to their knees, weeping in joy.

His love's hand brushed his own; her eyes were bright, a jubilant smile gracing her lips. "Congratulations, my love."

"A celebration must be held," he quirked his lips, felt his features relax; a weight that he had felt for a long time diminished. "First, we will hear the tale of our victory. Messenger!"

All quieted as the messenger swallowed, kneeling before him. "My liege?"

"Regale us of the Turks' annihilation."

"Of course," the messenger looked around, voice carrying. "The Turks had wiped out the Hungarians and wanted more than the death of a Christian King; they wished to spread their foul beliefs until they encompassed Christendom. The Sultan marched further inward with his damned Janissaries than any other invader, but our Imperial Highness' glorious House made certain that the Sultan's conquest had reached its zenith. After Your Highness' brother's control had been established over Hungary after the death of Louis II, Zapoya allied with the Sultan."

The Emperor's face darkened, "Damnation will await his soul."

"Just as the Sultan, my liege; just as all Turks. The Sultan's colossal army swept through all of the lands and cities that your brother, the Archduke had captured. Buda was seized and given to Zapoya. Gran, Tata, Komárom, and Raab soon followed. The earth of those cities, of all of Hungary, is soaked in the blood of innocent men who the Turks slaughtered. They pillaged as they marched toward Vienna; numerous distraught messages from survivors were received as a warning. They marched past the border and knowing that Vienna would be the target, measures were taken to ensure security and formidability."

"What did my brother order?"

"The Archduke returned to Bohemia; he said that Hungary could not lose a second King. When Your Highness' mercenaries arrived, fortifications were made. Since the walls around the city were 300-years-old, they were heavily reinforced and the gates were sealed with brick. The buildings outside the main citadel were then intentionally destroyed, removing the potential for the Turks to receive cover during battle. Finally, large bastions of earth were built along the reinforced walls to provide more maneuverability while the larders were replenished and wells filled… We waited and then they arrived, the _Turks._ Vienna was surrounded, my liege; it was an impenetrable cloud of evil-doers. We were isolated, _alone._ The Sultan led his legions; he sent us his terms."

"That _heathen,_ " the Emperor murmured, bringing a hand to his chest; he crossed a sign. "What were our great enemy's terms? Do you know?"

"I do. He offered the promise that if we abandoned our faith to join the Muslim creed, nothing would happen to us." The messenger shuddered and the Emperor swore that the man would be rewarded vastly. "He swore that if we resisted, he would slaughter our young and old, and that the city would be turned to ash."

"Unsurprising. The barbarity of those heathens is unmatched; they are more destructive than fire. Nearly all of Hungary has been plundered."

"The terms were dismissed with zeal and- "

"What of the claim in which I heard the Sultan boasting that within 2 weeks, he would be eating breakfast inside St. Stephen's Cathedral?"

"'Tis true, my liege. It was a claim that would never become reality. Praise God."

"What happened during the battle?"

"The Sultan attacked; they were first repelled by your mercenaries and when they fired their cannons, there was no significant damage to the walls, but in the city, there was sparse damage. Some of the cannonballs sailed over the ramparts and landed in the streets of the city."

"How was this remedied?"

"All of the cobblestone was dismantled, leaving only soil; the cannonballs then sunk into it, causing no damage."

"Good. What else?"

"We discovered that the artillery was merely a distraction. The Sultan's sappers were digging in the earth, creating tunnels and trenches to detonate their explosives beneath Vienna's walls."

"Just as they had done at Rhodes 7 years ago," the Emperor recalled with animosity. "How was this threat met?"

"There was a system of water buckets in the cellars along the city walls and by observing the vibrations provided, we discovered where the Turks were tunneling. When the location was confirmed, your mercenaries raided the ditches, killing many Turks and detonating their explosives before they reached Vienna's walls. They were as skilled and ruthless as the Impaler King himself."

"How many were lost?"

"Many, my liege, but for each death, they doomed thrice as many Turks to theirs. I know not the exact numbers. Some, too, were killed as they retreated into the city through the tunnels after administering the surprise rebut."

"They are in Heaven, now," he silently offered a prayer for the brave men who had been slain by Lucifer's beguiled armies. "The Father has rewarded them more than I ever could. How came the victory?"

"An explosion managed to create a breach in Vienna's walls near the gate but the heathens were held off. Then God silenced the fray. Rain fell painfully; it hurt to be in contact with. It was the day when the Sultan had declared his breakfast would be consumed in St. Stephen's Cathedral."

"How fitting. Our Lord showed His might, His authentic power to these heathens."

"Indeed. A message was delivered to the Sultan on that day during the torrential downpour. It was a simple message, my liege: 'Your breakfast is getting cold.'"

The Emperor's lips curled, "An excellent mockery for the greatest mocker of God."

"The Sultan was infuriated. The next day, he unleashed a desperate, final assault upon Vienna; the full force of the Turkish legions bore down on the city's walls. They were unbreachable. Within hours, the Turks despondently withdrew to their camps. Then God stamped His mark on our victory; the next day, blankets of snow fell to cover the land and city. The battle was won and the Turks fled back to their horrid lands."

More cheering ensued from the people and the Emperor stood to his feet. "And they will never return! The Turks have seen our strength and they feared it! Good, righteous men laid down their lives, not just for my territories, but for all of Christendom and the purity of Christ that we hold in our souls! A city-full of Christian men repelled the colossal army and if they think to try once again, the Sultan will remember their defeat at Vienna! Terror will grip his corrupt heart with icy fingers; he will know full well what will happen if he returns with his heathen armies. They will face _obliteration_ at the hands of countries-full of Christian men! They will be met by an army of Kings!"

The cacophony of acclamations was deafening; it almost hurt.

The Emperor's thoughts turned inward; he recalled the prior information that he had received. King Henry was fixing to break from Rome, enchanted by the Boleyn whore beyond anything that he had imagined. The situation in England was much more dire than he had anticipated. It didn't matter, though; the Turks' defeat opened greater avenues for him to focus on England and then France. He needed to secure Christendom and only his House was worthy of the task. He had plans and God had verified the purity of them. His Empire had repelled the greatest outward threat to God's holy nations and now he would focus his attention on the greatest inward threat.

Once he freed King Henry from the hold of the Boleyn whore and England from Lutheranism - wedding his cousin to his heir, Prince Felipe, thus strengthening his House with another realm - he would surround Francois. By King Henry's hold on Calais, he would possess another pivotal ingress into France if Francois proved devious. Then he would marry his nephew, Maximillian to Francois' eldest daughter and order His Holiness to disinherit Francois' sons, gaining another realm for his House. God had shown him the grand vision in all its majesty; he sought to make it a reality.

Soon, his provinces would stretch across Christendom and he, the Emperor, would rule with a benevolent had guided by Christ.

XxXxXxXxXxX

 **All right, that's it for this one, everyone. I hope that you all enjoyed it and please leave a review, whether positive or negative. It really helps out with letting me know what's working and what isn't.**

 **There was a lot in this chapter and yes, I did use some quotes from** _ **Wolf Hall**_ **in this chapter:**

 ****Chapuys and Thomas More meet! Yes, Thomas More isn't going to just vanish; he's going to be against Henry ignoring the Pope. Chapuys is devious and wants his Master's will enforced; he has found a worthy ally who serves Rome - and thus the Emperor at this point although he doesn't necessarily know that - above his King.**

 ****Henry agrees to Cromwell's suggestions! Henry is splitting from Rome and because he and Anne were humiliated in such a way by the Pope, he is a lot more open to things that he would have never allowed in real-life history. Also, not wanting to be like the Emperor would play a part. (Distribution of some of the claimed wealth back to people and printing Tyndale's Bible.) Francois I agrees to support Henry and Anne's union and doesn't care if Henry breaks away from Rome. If you think that's strange, just remember that Francois I allied with the** _ **Sultan of the Ottoman Empire,**_ **Suleiman the Magnificent - the sworn enemy of Christendom - just to spite the Emperor. If he was willing to do that in real-life history, he would be more than willing to let Henry do whatever he wants in this.**

 ****Thomas More and Cromwell go at it! This part - heck, this entire chapter - took A LOT of research and I had to give both sides valid points - at least what they thought were valid points - and I think that I succeeded. Everything about Melusine and the three suns is true and I thought that it was incredibly interesting and could be a motif - at least the legends of Melusine part - because Edward IV and Henry VIII were quite similar.**

 ****The Emperor gets news about Vienna! That was all true. The Siege of Vienna in 1529 was a real event that saw the Ottoman expansion into Europe come to a screeching halt; it caused the Sultan to move his attention to Asia and more of the Mediterranean. A lot of the information from the actual battle was taken from** _ **Kings and Generals**_ **on YouTube; it's a fascinating channel.**

 **That's it. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask them. I'd be more than willing to answer them. Please leave a review to tell me what you thought about it because it would help me out.**

 _ **Stay Safe  
**_ **ButtonPusher**


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